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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621057">Ruins of Eternia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongcat/pseuds/strongcat'>strongcat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Science Fiction &amp; Fantasy, Some characters based loosely on the He-Man/MoTU canon, Temporary Character Death, The First Ones (She-Ra), eh? eh? see what i did there?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:01:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongcat/pseuds/strongcat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><b>This work is abandoned.</b><br/>Two years after the defeat of Horde Prime, the Best Friends Squad &amp; company are finally underway on their mission to bring magic back to the universe. Only, it seems the universe is in a lot worse shape than they thought. Adora and her crew must begin to heal the galaxy from a thousand years of war and desolation—while grappling with the legacy of the First Ones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora &amp; Bow (She-Ra), Adora &amp; Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow &amp; Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra &amp; Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra &amp; Melog (She-Ra), Entrapta &amp; Hordak (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lights in the Distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>“You can’t hide forever, Catra.”</p><p>Adora shifts her weight from the ball of one foot to the other, fingers wrapped firmly around her bo-staff. She thinks she hears a footfall at her 5 o’clock, so she swivels around quickly, light on her feet, and swings the end of the staff outward—but there’s no impact, just a hollow, metallic <em> whoosh </em> as the weapon swings through air.</p><p>“I don’t have to hide if you’re this bad at looking for me, Adora,” Catra replies in her familiar, taunting drawl. </p><p>There’s a piece of an old shirt tied around Adora’s eyes at her own insistence. She follows the sound of Catra’s voice, eager to try and match her opponent’s extraordinary hearing. The space they’re in isn’t particularly prone to echoes; the ceilings are low, and there’s furniture strewn semi-randomly across the floor, creating a makeshift obstacle course. </p><p>This time the sound comes from her 8 o’clock, but she doesn’t react yet. Instead, she waits, intentionally shifting clockwise ever so slightly so as not to telegraph her next move. Then, in a split second, Adora hears claws hitting the floor and twists herself counterclockwise, bringing her staff up to block.</p><p>Their weapons collide with a loud <em> clang </em>. Adora hears Catra grunt with the effort, then gasp in surprise as she stumbles backwards across the metal floor. Seizing the opportunity, Adora launches forward with her staff drawn above her head. But before Adora can slow her momentum, Catra twirls deftly to the side and swings the butt of her own staff low, catching Adora in the shin.</p><p>Time seems to slow down. Adora tries not to think about the deep ache in her right shin as she feels her center of gravity falling to the floor. This is her last chance to do <em> something </em> before Catra has a weapon at her throat. Thinking quickly, Adora twists around just as she loses her balance so she’ll avoid a faceplant, and brings the end of her staff to the back of her opponent’s knee.</p><p>Adora’s back hits the floor as Catra yelps, stumbles, and then collapses forward on top of her. Both weapons go clattering to the floor.</p><p>As the adrenaline subsides, Adora is suddenly acutely aware that Catra is straddling her, elbows on both sides of her head, knees on both sides of her thighs, mismatched eyes with wide-open pupils staring directly at her as her blindfold is lifted up with a clawed finger. The sensation of her hot sweaty back against the cold metal floor provides a backdrop to the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.</p><p>“I think I win this one,” Catra rasps, smirk barely concealing her fangs.</p><p>Adora rolls her eyes. “Only because I let you.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Catra leans down a little farther and brushes the tip of her nose against Adora’s. “What else are you gonna let me do?”</p><p>Adora doesn’t give a second thought before tilting her chin up and catching Catra’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Their breathing only gets heavier as Adora brings her taped-up hands to the sides of Catra’s rib cage and lets her calloused fingers play with the hem of Catra’s sports bra. Catra’s hot breaths carry a rumbling purr into Adora’s mouth, and Adora can’t help but smile against Catra’s lips.</p><p>The pair startle, both at the hiss of the rec room’s pneumatic door opening and the demanding voice that follows.</p><p>“Adora,” Glimmer groans from the doorway, “Are you done with her yet? It’s time for tea and I need my tea buddy!”</p><p>“I told her not to call me that,” Catra mutters.</p><p>Adora chuckles. Glimmer and Catra are always finding new ways to annoy each other. It’s a love language, really.</p><p>“I don’t know, <em> babe</em>,” Adora says teasingly, just loud enough for Glimmer to hear, “Are we finished?”</p><p>Catra pushes herself up off the floor and stretches her arms as far as they’ll go above her head, exposing her lithe, fuzzy abdomen, her tail twitching languorously.</p><p>“I don’t know, <em> babe.</em> I mean, <em> I </em>definitely didn’t finish.”</p><p>Glimmer’s cheeks flush bright pink as she covers her face with both her hands.</p><p>“Stop being gross, you two! Other people use this room!”</p><p>“Oh, excuse me, Sparkles,” Catra says as she stands and pulls Adora up by the arm. “I didn’t realize you wanted to join in. Would Arrow Boy really be okay with that?”</p><p>“Shut <em> up!” </em> Her words seem angry, but there’s a definite smile in the queen’s voice, shielded behind her fingers.</p><p>Adora’s snickering turns into outright cackling as she picks her staff up off the floor and finds her discarded white undershirt.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Glim, we’re done. I should probably go check in with Bow anyway.”</p><p>Catra grabs Adora’s bicep gently and pulls her in for a peck on the cheek.</p><p>“See you in the galley for dinner?” Catra asks in a hushed tone that Adora knows well.</p><p>“Promise,” Adora says, returning the kiss. </p><p>The lovers’ eyes meet and share a soft glance, then Adora turns to head for the door. She gives Glimmer’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she exits to the hallway.</p><p>The corridors of the ship are awash with warm, white light from the adaptive overhead lights that simulate Etheria’s lunar cycle. It’s been over three months since Adora felt the real thing, but at least the faux daylight is better than the eerie pinkish-purple lights that used to line the halls.</p><p>Adora reaches the diamond-shaped door to her and Catra’s private quarters and taps the touch plate. It slides open and disappears seamlessly into the wall, and the lights come on inside the sparsely-decorated bedroom. She heads to the en-suite bathroom, where she strips, showers, and dries off in seven minutes flat. Her grooming routine is meticulously planned and timed, just like the rest of the day-to-day operations aboard <em> Darla. </em></p><p>That’s her job up here, for the time being: routines, schedules, maps, routes. Technically, Adora is the commander of the ship. She and her friends had established a chain of command just in case a situation demanded military-like discipline and precision, but they haven’t had to use it yet. Nobody calls her Captain, nobody expects her to give orders, and she likes it that way. The rest of the crew just trust her to keep track of time and space, and she trusts them to do their jobs in turn.</p><p>The one part of her routine that Adora hasn’t quite acclimated to yet, even after all these months, is her new haircut. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, her reflection still feels somewhat foreign without the cascade of blonde hair that she used to wrangle into a high ponytail every day. Adora had the ponytail down to a science; five seconds or less, no flyaways. Ironically, the short crop takes significantly more time to tame, complicating her routine.</p><p>Shortly before leaving for their long mission, the whole crew—except Entrapta, for obvious reasons—had cut their hair short, both for practicality’s sake and because they had all thought it would be a fun way to measure the passage of time. Adora had opted to lop off most of her hair down to a few inches, save for her bangs, which she kept longer in order to retain her customary poof. What she hadn’t realized at the time was that in order to create that poof naturally, she had to have more hair to tie it back to. For a few days, Catra had made fun of her “forehead mop,” until she had found some pomade in Glimmer’s bathroom.</p><p>After several months in space, her hair has grown long enough that she can simply brush it to the side and tuck it behind her ear, no pomade required. But she still uses a little bit of product, just to keep it under control. Adora grunts at her reflection as she carefully arranges her hair, making no compromises, sparing no effort until every strand is in its place. Satisfied, she smiles at the mirror, then raises an eyebrow and sticks her chin out. Catra calls this the “cocky idiot” face, but Adora knows her girlfriend loves it, so she practices.</p><p>Back in the bedroom, Adora opens the storage compartment that she sometimes jokingly calls an “armoire,” and finds a fresh pair of gray pants and a white button-up shirt. She pulls them on, careful not to disturb her meticulous hairdo, then slips into an old pair of her replica standard-issue Horde boots. As she’s leaving the room, she grabs her red vest from the back of the desk chair and throws it around herself, adjusting the golden wing pin over her heart.</p><p>The walk to the bridge is short. Massive metal doors <em> whoosh </em> open for Adora as she approaches. Entering the bridge still fills her with wonder, although she does it every day. The panoramic viewports put the stars and galaxies on full display for her, and she can almost imagine she’s just floating free out there in the vacuum of space, launching herself off of platforms made of light just as she did while fighting Prime’s armada almost two years ago. Adora’s face lights up with a grin at the sight.</p><p>“Hey there,” Bow calls from a corner of the bridge. He’s sitting in one of the newly installed swiveling chairs at a control panel, feet up on the dashboard, taking aim with a dart at a board hung on the back wall. The archer lets the dart fly with a quick flick of his wrist, and Adora doesn’t have to look at the board; she can tell by his bright smile that it’s a bullseye. “How was sparring?”</p><p>“Hey, Bow!” Adora greets him giddily as she finds a seat in the captain’s chair, which now has embroidered cushions courtesy of Castaspella. “Sparring was good. You know, normal. No injuries.”</p><p>“Was it …” Bow pauses to launch another dart at the board, “fun?”</p><p>“Fun? Fun! Yes. Yeah, it was fun. Catra’s still doing the thing where she hides behind chairs and sneak-attacks, but I’m getting the hang of blocking it.”</p><p>Bow laughs under his breath, but his brow furrows ever so slightly with what looks like concern. He swivels his chair around to face Adora at the center of the bridge.</p><p>“As long as you’re not hurting each other.”</p><p>Adora smiles softly and nods in response. She knows he means well, and he trusts Catra plenty. Bow just doesn’t quite understand Catra and Adora’s sparring habit; he can’t stop himself from worrying about his best friends. Which Adora thinks is fair considering the … rich and complicated past they share.</p><p>“Any updates? How’s our progress?” Adora asks, straightening her back to a more serious posture.</p><p>Bow sighs as he stands up and strides over to his own station at the helm, where a blue bomber jacket is slung across the back of the chair.</p><p>“Nothing new, still. We just surveyed our twelfth life-sustaining system, but it was all just … rocks, again. We’re coming up on the next system from Jewelstar’s map in about a week.” Bow taps a button on his control panel and a holo-display pops up, showing a series of adjacent pink spheres dotted with glowing points and a blinking yellow chevron traveling between them.</p><p>A chill runs down Adora’s spine. She remembers begging Light Hope—or, she supposes, the thing that replaced Light Hope—not to fire the superweapon at Etheria’s core, thinking of all the people on all the planets that the Heart would’ve obliterated. She thought, at the time, that if she could stop the weapon, she could save not only Etheria, her home, but countless other inhabited worlds. And maybe, just maybe, one of them might be her native planet, the planet of the First Ones—of her parents. But out in deep space, where Jewelstar’s map told them there had once been living worlds, they find nothing but barren, ashen husks—the haunting wake of Horde Prime’s desolation. Even after all the sacrifices she made, Adora still couldn’t save them all. </p><p>And now Adora thinks she may never find out where she came from. The thought doesn’t inspire the same feelings of betrayal and anger that it did when she first learned of her heritage. The way she sees it, she doesn’t need to know where she came from. She knows where she belongs, and that’s right here on this ship, with the love of her life and her best friends—her family.</p><p>But still, just because Adora doesn’t <em> need </em> to know where she came from doesn’t mean she doesn’t <em> want </em> to know. She’s gotten very good at letting herself want, provided that her desires don’t contradict what others need from her. She and her friends are on this mission because they <em> want </em> to explore, to discover, to spread magic across the galaxy, not because anyone asked them to. And if—hypothetically speaking—while they’re out here, Adora <em> maybe </em> spends some free time deciphering millennia-old First Ones star maps and <em> maybe </em> alters their course here or there according to said maps, it won’t get in the way of the mission.</p><p>Adora is staring out the viewport, watching distant stars, imagining what they might hold in their orbits, when she’s pulled from her reverie by a blinking red light on the command chair’s control pad accompanied by an incessant beeping. She nearly jumps out of her seat.</p><p>“Bow? What is that?” Adora asks with barely restrained panic in her voice. “What’s going on?”</p><p>But before Bow can answer, <em> Darla </em> answers first. A placid simulated voice comes through the ship’s computer: <em> “Incoming Distress Transmission, Priority One. Receiving From Seven-Two Mark Three-Zero-Eight. Coordinates Received. Nature Of Emergency: Starship Run Aground. Class Unknown. Designation Unknown. Complement: One. Audio Received. Would You Like To Review The Recording?” </em></p><p>Bow and Adora watch each other’s expressions turn from surprise, to horror, to wonder in an instant. Adora holds her friend’s gaze as she presses the intercom button on the command chair.</p><p>“Guys? Come to the bridge. You’re going to want to hear this.”</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Entrapta </em>
</h3><p>In the engineering section, there are two priorities. One: keep <em> Darla’s </em> systems running. Two: keep an eye on Hordak. This is what Entrapta’s friends told her. She has added a few tertiary priorities to this list.</p><p>Priority three is to improve <em> Darla’s </em> power and efficiency. Right after that, priority four is to study the effects of extended space travel in artificial gravity on the human body. Priority five is to give Hordak things to do. This helps with priorities one through four, coincidentally. Priority six is, of course, tiny snacks. Priority seven is keeping a technical log.</p><p>Entrapta adjusts her overalls with her gloved thumbs and speaks confidently into the digital recorder in her robotic hair extension.</p><p>“Starship <em>Darla, </em>technical log, day 104—105?—105, 1600 hours by on-board chronometer. Our revamped power systems are holding up well to extended use. I’m still trying to resolve the coolant issue with the reverse-engineered First Ones tech warp drive, but making good progress. One place I’ve made great progress is that I’ve decided to call the crystals that the First Ones used to store data and transmit magical energy, ‘Arcanolite.’ It’s a much easier word than what I was calling them earlier, the ‘First Ones Crystalline Data And Magical Energy Storage And Transmission System,’ or ‘FOCDAMESATS’ for short. What was I talking about?”</p><p>As she talks, she paces absently towards the reactor in the center of the engine room, a massive globe of thick steel coated with a dark insulating compound, countless tubes, wires, and lights jutting out from its surface.</p><p>“Oh yeah! The warp drive. It turns out that using the Arcanolite’s magical properties to continually bend the fabric of space into a stable warp bubble creates a <em> lot </em> of excess heat, and even if I reroute extra coolant from the thulite reactor, she still begins to overheat after about a week of continuous flight at warp factor two. But! I’m working on a solution involving the galley refrigerator.”</p><p>Entrapta’s other robotic hair extension shapes itself into a hand and rises to scratch her chin. She hums in thought as she wanders over to her worktable.</p><p>“Let’s see, what else? Oh! Yes. At 1900 hours yesterday, we finally tested the ion cannons. Before we left, Hordak insisted that <em> Darla </em> have some kind of shipboard weapons system. Bow and Glimmer got really angry. They weren’t happy Hordak was coming along at all; they’re still making him stay down in engineering at all times. I’m just glad he’s here to assist me with <em> Darla </em>. And to … satisfy my social interaction quota.</p><p>“Anyway, Bow and Glimmer argued that since the purpose of our expedition is exploration and diplomacy, we shouldn’t need any kind of weapons. I thought that was kind of silly. Space is immeasurably vast, and I calculated a … 64.3% chance that we would run into some kind of threat. Adora agreed with my logic but said that if we ran into any trouble, we would always have She-Ra to defend us. Catra got pretty mad at Adora for that. I wanted to bring attention to other possible uses for the cannons, such as clearing space debris, but it was at that point I realized that the argument wasn’t really about ion cannons. After that disagreement, Catra managed to convince the others to let Hordak install the cannons. Bow and Glimmer were still unhappy about it—until last night! Adora had Bow take us into an asteroid field, and Catra used the asteroids for target practice! They worked splendidly, just as I expected.”</p><p>She glances down at the worktable, eyeing the circuit boards and Arcanolite crystals. Her gaze lands on a half-built device she’s been working on in her free time. Right now, it’s a hemispherical chamber, the inside covered in coils of conductive wire and thin metal spikes that point towards the center, waiting to receive a crystal.</p><p>“Ah, and my magical generator is coming along nicely too. My friends didn’t ask me to make this, but I think they’ll appreciate it anyway. It’ll convert the energy stored in an Arcanolite crystal into usable magic. Ideally, it should allow Glimmer to use some of her powers while we’re away from Etheria, and I’m sure there will be plenty of other applications! For example, if we manage to find a planet that—”</p><p>A chirp from the communications panel near the ladder interrupts Entrapta’s log. She runs over, hoping for something exciting. She isn’t disappointed.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>Glimmer gingerly sips her tea, legs crossed elegantly on the gaudy Bright Moon sofa in the galley. Catra thinks she remembers the queen saying it was “lemon ginger with lavender,” which sounds pretty gross, if she’s being honest, but she isn’t going to give Glimmer a hard time about it. Not today, anyway.</p><p>Catra is leaning back on the sofa, one leg slung lazily over the armrest, as she takes gulps of lukewarm black coffee. She would have made a fresh pot, but … eh.</p><p>“What’s Hordak’s deal, anyway? Why is he still such a grump? I thought Adora, like … exorcised him, or whatever,” Glimmer asks without a modicum of self-awareness.</p><p>The fur along Catra’s spine stands on end as she remembers that day, and all the days that came before it. The invader that had violated her mind, stealing her most secretive thoughts and displaying them like pieces in a museum. The light at the end of the tunnel turning gold and looking down at her with crystal blue eyes. Watching with conflicting feelings of hatred and unimaginable loss as the woman who had tortured, manipulated and abused her—but also raised her from a baby—immolated herself. And before all that there was the hatred, the anger, the loneliness, the desperation, all the result of a one-sided love—no, not love; the love was never one-sided, she remembers—a<em> need </em> that turned sour in her heart.</p><p>Catra looks toward the door. A year or two ago, she would’ve run from this awful weight in her chest, but she’s not that person anymore. She stays, and she talks. She takes a deep breath, then answers Glimmer’s question.</p><p>“Hordak spent his whole life trying to be something special, trying to get big brother’s love. But Prime,” she still shudders when she says the name, but tells herself it’s the stale coffee, “Prime tossed him aside like a piece of trash just for being different. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him either, but … I get it. You don’t just get over that kind of pain. Not even She-Ra can heal that.”</p><p>Glimmer huffs and places her mug of tea on the low table in front of them. Catra doesn’t have to turn to see the look on Glimmer’s face; she can feel that grimace in the back of her skull. They sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment, their otherwise pleasant tea time turned bitter. It’s neither of their faults, Catra knows. That doesn’t stop her from wanting to dig her claws into something.</p><p>Thankfully, Adora’s voice on the intercom breaks the tension. Catra lets out a small chirp and her ears perk up at the familiar sound, only to flatten back down as she recognizes her girlfriend’s ‘panicking-but-trying-to-stay-cool’ tone. Without another word, Catra and Glimmer spring up from their seats and head for the bridge.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>In less than a minute, Catra and Glimmer, followed shortly after by Entrapta, run through the doorway to the bridge, all shouting some variation of, “What’s going on?”</p><p>Adora stands in front of the command chair and waits for her friends to join her in a small circle.</p><p>“We’ve received a distress signal. Downed ship, one person aboard. Coordinates are about a week out at our regular cruising speed, not too far off our course.” She finishes, and is met with stunned silence from her friends. Catra is the first to speak.</p><p>“Adora,” she says with a tone Adora knows too well: the ‘don’t-be-an-idiot’ voice. “Are you about to suggest we run headfirst into a potentially ship-crashing situation just to save one person?”</p><p>“I know how this sounds, Catra, but we have to do this. I can’t just leave this person out in space to die.” Adora reaches a hand to her girlfriend’s shoulder, squeezing gently, a grounding touch. “We’ll be careful. No unnecessary risks, I promise.”</p><p>A purr—not the comfortable kind, but the desperate kind—rumbles through Catra’s body and into Adora’s hand. Catra glances to the floor, then back up at Adora with a furrowed brow.</p><p>“Okay.” The doubt on Catra's face shifts to determination and she crosses her arms. “But we have to take every precaution. We approach as fast as we can without sacrificing maneuverability, with shields up and cannons armed. This could be a trap.”</p><p>“No, we can’t go looking for a fight,” Bow says solemnly as he approaches the group from his place at the helm. </p><p>“Bow is right,” says Glimmer. “We’re on a diplomatic mission, remember? If there’s someone there and they see us coming in hot like that, we could appear hostile.”</p><p>Bow nods in agreement. “We should send a response to the signal and approach conspicuously.”</p><p>“But we can’t send a response,” Glimmer says. “If someone attacked that ship, they could still be there, and we’d risk an attack too if we announced ourselves like that.”</p><p>“So you admit there could be an attack waiting for us?” Catra snaps. Then, before Adora can stop them, everyone is talking at once.</p><p>“I didn’t say that! I just said—”</p><p>“We can’t assume—”</p><p>“You said we couldn’t risk—”</p><p>“—that if there <em> was </em> one, we shouldn’t—”</p><p>“—that this was an attack! We’re not—”</p><p>The voices blur together in Adora’s mind. She shuts her eyes tight and tries to sort it all out, tries to see the right path through all this, but there’s too much noise. She has to keep everyone together. They can’t fall apart now.</p><p>“Everyone stop!” Adora shouts with more power behind her voice than she intended. The room goes quiet, save for the quiet hum of the engine. She takes a deep breath, going over everything again, looking for something she missed. And, sure enough, “We didn’t even listen to the recording yet. Maybe that will give us more information.”</p><p>The crew exchanges worried glances, then all nod. Adora taps a button on the command chair behind her. “Darla, play the message.”</p><p>There’s static over the bridge’s speakers, then the message comes through, barely intelligible.</p><p>“...shot down by...Horde...beyond repair...provisions...not enough…”</p><p>The final words of the message come through louder and clearer than the rest.</p><p>“Please. Help.”</p><p>As the static fades, Adora feels all of her uncertainty vanish. She watches her friends’ hearts change in an instant. Catra’s defensive posturing falls away and her eyes go steely; Bow’s careful pragmatism gives way to dutiful determination; Glimmer’s nerves harden and her fists clench, looking for magic to grab hold of.</p><p>“We have to go, and we have to go fast. This person probably doesn’t have enough supplies to last them a week,” Adora says.</p><p>Glimmer fires back. “Adora, you heard the message! There’s a rogue Horde ship out there, maybe a whole fleet! We don’t stand a chance!”</p><p>Adora knows that tone of voice too. It’s the one that demands to be listened to, but refuses to compromise. They can’t afford to have this conflict right now.</p><p>“We didn’t stand a chance before, Glimmer, but we still took down Prime. We have to try. We have to put up a fight.”</p><p>“We can’t just fly in guns blazing, Adora, we need a strategy,” Catra says like she’s repeating a mantra.</p><p>Catra’s doing a good job of concealing it, but Adora can still read her loud and clear. Her mouth says “strategy,” but her gold and blue eyes and her freckled cheeks and her creased forehead are saying, <em> Don’t be a hero. Not again. </em>Adora’s heart breaks a little at the thought, and she rubs at her chest, feeling the outline of the Failsafe scar through her shirt.</p><p>“You’re right. And we’ll have one.” Adora reaches out to touch Catra’s arm, but Catra flinches away. She sighs. “I trust you all to get us through this. I need you to trust me, too.”</p><p>“I trust you, Adora,” Bow says, squaring his shoulders. “I think you should take the conn.” He smiles assuredly at her, and she smiles back, scared but grateful for the show of confidence. </p><p>Adora looks to Catra, ears flat and tail twitching. Catra looks back hesitantly, but Adora can still feel the unshakable bond between them, solid as steel. They’re still here, still together after all this time, completely open to each other. Catra doesn’t have to speak for Adora to know that she trusts her.</p><p>Adora turns back to Glimmer, whose scowl has softened with sadness in her glittering eyes.</p><p>“Glimmer—”</p><p>“I know,” the queen replies before Adora can finish her thought. She lets out a held breath. “I trust you.”</p><p>Adora lets herself smile again before she turns to Entrapta.</p><p>Entrapta, though, looks preoccupied. As Adora watches her expression, she realizes there’s horror written on Entrapta’s face. Then, Adora remembers their sixth crew member, the one down in engineering, who they never see, never talk to—Hordak. That ship was shot down by the Horde. If there’s a Horde ship out there, there’s clones—Hordak’s brothers. Adora doesn’t quite understand Entrapta’s relationship with Hordak and the clones, but she knows Entrapta has found something like a family with them. Adora will do everything in her power to protect her friends—and that includes their families, no matter how strange.</p><p>“Entrapta,” Adora begins, already thinking of ways this could go wrong, “do you think you and Hordak can think of a way to disable a clone ship without destroying it?”</p><p>The scientist’s eyes light up once again with her usual enthusiasm, plus an unmistakable twinkle of love.</p><p>“Yes, absolutely! That should be a piece of cake!” Entrapta takes a deep breath, then steels herself with sincerity. “Thank you, Adora. I trust you, too.”</p><p>Adora smiles at Entrapta with gratitude, then steps backwards and takes a seat in the command chair. She makes eye contact with each of her friends one more time, then straightens her posture and puffs up her chest.</p><p>“Stations, everyone.”</p><p>The crew members walk to their respective seats at the bridge’s various control panels. Catra goes to the defense station to the left of Adora, near the dart board, and Adora thinks she sees—maybe—a little bit of pride in her step. Glimmer walks to the communications station, her posture a little smaller than usual. Bow goes back to the helm and picks his jacket off the chair, showing off the large red heart emblazoned on the back as he shrugs it on. Entrapta stands over his shoulder to peer down at his instruments.</p><p>Adora calls to the helm. “Bow, how soon can we get there at top speed?”</p><p>The archer-turned-helmsman punches a few buttons on his console, then swivels around to Adora.</p><p>“We can get there in 28 hours at maximum warp.”</p><p>Entrapta lets out an anxious whine. “I’m not sure <em> Darla </em> can sustain that speed for that long! We’d risk a potentially catastrophic coolant leak!”</p><p>“We’ll have to take that chance,” Adora says. “We can do this.” She says it mostly for Entrapta, who starts running back to the engine room to wrestle with the warp drive, but also for herself. This is the first time in a long time that she’s been in charge of a mission. It’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but if everyone else believes in her, who is she to question them?</p><p>She takes one last look up at the stars through the massive viewports on the bridge.</p><p>“Bow,” with her eyes on the sky, she gives the order. “Punch it.”</p><p>The stars blur into lines of multicolored light overhead. There’s a high-pitched whine, a powerful rumble, and then a buzzing hum that fills all silence. <em> Darla </em> is engulfed in a dazzling blaze of purple as she flings herself into the unknown, faster than light.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Storm Beneath the Calm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As <i>Darla</i> hurdles towards the source of the mysterious distress signal, tensions among her crew begin to build.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>It’s a tense two hours on the bridge as Catra and the rest of the crew run diagnostics, check and double-check that everything on the ship is ready for what will almost certainly be a fight. A fight in space. They’re going to use the spaceship to fight. Catra is still getting this through her head.</p><p>Nobody talks during these two hours. Catra’s momentary pride at seeing her girlfriend take command fades quickly. Something hangs in the air that Catra hasn’t felt since the night Adora accepted the Failsafe, the night she seemed to break all her promises all over again. It’s the feeling of getting ready to go up against something really, cosmically big. A quiet walk to the gallows with a hopeless plan to kill the executioner.</p><p>Catra is stressed, to say the least. It shouldn’t be any surprise to her, then, when she feels a small, warm pressure against her left shin, and hears a tinier-than-usual mewl, but she still jumps a little in her seat when Melog leans their weight onto her, trying to provide comfort. It’s a sweet gesture, and it does calm some of the deeper, more animalistic parts of her, but she’s going to need a lot more than just a grounding touch to stop her from freaking out for the next full day.</p><p>She’s going to have to talk to Adora. This should be easy. She’s talked to Adora about this plenty of times before—her tendency to run headfirst into any situation where someone needs help, in the process forgetting or forsaking her own well-being. This isn’t even a particularly severe example of Adora’s reckless selflessness; she has a crew and a ship to back her up, she’s not jumping into a fire with no protection. So where is this terrible uncertainty coming from?</p><p>Catra glances back at her girlfriend in the throne-like captain’s chair. Adora really looks the part. Her short, blonde locks are sleek and elegant, tucked behind her ear. That new red vest hugs her broad shoulders just enough to accentuate her muscles. Her legs are crossed and she’s leaning on an armrest, brow furrowed and chin resting on her fist in thought. She pokes a finger authoritatively at a three-dimensional starmap projected from the control pad, watching the image zoom out until the planets are pinpricks of pink light. There’s no desperation behind those pale blue eyes, Catra realizes, no fear or guilt. There’s just determination and confidence. </p><p>It settles Catra’s nerves even more than Melog curled up at her feet. Maybe this conversation won’t be as hard as she feared.</p><p>She turns back around to her station, her head clearer than before, and finishes checking over the defense systems. On the glowing blue screen, there’s a big diamond which represents the ship’s shields, with a stack of pink horizontal bars inside it, indicating that the shields are at a hundred percent. Then, there’s two long, thin shapes that glow yellow, with a circle icon under each one. Catra knows this one: those are the guns. She learned that last night in the asteroid field.</p><p>Catra has largely moved past her wanton enjoyment of destruction. This is what she tells herself. But come on, who wouldn’t have fun wiggling a couple joysticks and pressing some buttons? The rush she felt watching a huge red laser blow a space rock to smithereens was purely coincidental.</p><p>Having finished her duties on the bridge, Catra gives in to the persistent hunger and the small grain of anxiety that still sits in the pit of her stomach. She swivels around in her chair and springs up to go bother Adora.</p><p>“Hey, Adora,” she purrs, leaning an elbow against the captain’s chair and propping her head up. She does her best to appear nonchalant despite the worry she harbors. “You done yet? I want dinner.”</p><p>Adora hums absentmindedly as she stares at the map for a few more seconds before realizing she’s being spoken to and turning to face Catra.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, dinner! Yes, definitely,” she turns back to the map for a moment and starts poking again, “I just need to—“</p><p>Catra takes Adora’s jaw in two clawed fingers and turns her face back to Catra’s.</p><p>“Adora, come on. The maps aren’t going anywhere.” She gives Adora a look that she hopes says, <em> Talk now, work later. </em></p><p>Adora’s surprised look softens and Catra knows she understands. Catra won't let her run herself ragged, even if she has to tie her to the bed—okay, that thought might be unrelated, but the point stands.</p><p>“Sure,” Adora agrees with a sweet smile. She clicks the map projection off and stands up, looking at her friends at the helm and the comms station.</p><p>Before Adora can open her mouth to ask Bow and Glimmer to come, Catra tugs at her sleeve. She still wants to talk to Adora about her concerns about their new mission, even if it isn’t as dire as it felt at first.</p><p>“Could it just be us tonight?” Catra asks under her breath.</p><p>Adora looks at her, concerned but understanding, and nods silently. She looks back at Bow and Glimmer.</p><p>“Hey, do you guys mind watching the bridge while Catra and I go get something to eat?”</p><p>Without turning away from her station, Glimmer huffs her reply. “Sure. Whatever.”</p><p>Adora’s face falls as she looks over at Bow. He swivels around to meet her gaze, obviously very aware that he and Glimmer are about to have a talk too. He replies calmly, in stark contrast with his girlfriend, “Go ahead, guys. We’ve got it.”</p><p>Her cheeks lift into a closed-lip smile but Adora’s eyes stay dim, even as she takes Catra’s hand and they head for the door.</p><hr/><p>The microwave oven in the galley beeps just a little too loud, a little too long for Catra’s liking. She opens the door and takes out a steaming hot bowl of last night’s leftover chili, one of two dishes that Glimmer has been making every time it’s her turn to make dinner, then walks back over to the small, metal dining table. Catra sits on one of the bolted-down stools, right next to Adora, who has her own bowl.</p><p>Adora’s generous helping is already half-gone by the time Catra starts eating. This has always been the way of things with them, as predictable as the shoving and the taunting and the ever-present longing.</p><p>Which isn’t to say that the two of them haven’t changed. Catra certainly has; she’s learned to open up to people, to be honest and confront her issues head-on. Adora has too, for the most part. She’s definitely been better about admitting her feelings, acknowledging and listening to her desires. It’s been a while since the last time she tried to throw herself in harm’s way in service of some greater good. So, Catra thinks, maybe Adora just needs a reminder. A gentle nudge in the right direction.</p><p>“You know this is a stupid, reckless decision, right?” Catra says between bites.</p><p>Adora sighs through her nose, her mouth still full of chili. She gulps and swallows, staring down at her bowl without scooping another spoonful. She replies with clear disappointment and conflict in her voice, “I know.”</p><p>“And you know that you’re not responsible for the life of one poor idiot you’ve never met, right?”</p><p>“I know, Catra,” she says, clearly a little more annoyed—though Catra’s not sure if it’s directed at Catra or at herself. “I just … It’s the Horde. We know how to fight them. And if they’re still hurting people, then we should still be trying to stop them. Besides,” Adora glances out of the small viewport in the wall of the galley. “What if this person knows something that can help us? What if they can help me—help <em> us </em> find a planet we can heal?”</p><p>“Adora …” There it is again. That self-denial, that need to be useful, that Catra thought Adora was long past. “We’re here because we want to be, remember? We’re not under orders. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to, especially if it’s this risky.”</p><p>“Well, what if this is what I want to do?” Adora says, and this time it’s outright defensive. The shock must be evident on Catra’s face, because Adora quickly realizes what she said and squeezes her eyes shut with guilt. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I wanted to do this not just to bring magic back to the universe, but also because I wanted to explore, and learn about … myself, I guess. And I’m not going to learn anything as long as we’re just flying through empty space, looking at dead rocks.”</p><p>Realization connects the dots in Catra’s mind and she kicks herself for not remembering. Adora isn’t from Etheria. She was raised there, spent her whole life there, but she was born somewhere else. Somewhere <em> out here. </em> For Catra, space is just a void of nothingness filled with sometimes exciting but mostly deadly surprises. But for Adora, space must be different, more personal. It’s not her home, but it’s still part of her. This vast emptiness holds the secret of her heritage somewhere in it. This journey isn’t just one of discovery for Adora; it’s a journey of <em> self-</em>discovery.</p><p>Catra would’ve remembered to be jealous of Adora’s cool origin story if she weren’t so busy being impressed.</p><p>“Wow,” she says, “Who are you and what’ve you done with Adora?”</p><p>Adora pauses with a spoonful of chili hovering just outside her lips.</p><p>“What?” Her eyebrows press together. “Catra, it’s me, what are you talking about?”</p><p>Catra giggles helplessly. “It’s a joke, dummy. I’m proud of you, you know. For … wanting stuff. Having your own reasons.” She’s not eloquent, but she doesn’t have to be. She can tell Adora knows what she means by that sweet, goofy smile on her girlfriend’s face.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Bow </em>
</h3><p>There’s a certain type of headache Bow only gets from staring at digital screens. It feels like something covered in sharp spikes is trying to push his eyeballs out from behind. This is the kind of headache that Bow has had for going on three hours now.</p><p>He stares down at the glowing instrument panel in front of him. The readouts he sees are nothing new to him; he’s been piloting this ship—well, mostly programming the autopilot, but still—for three months straight now. But for some reason, right now, nothing sticks in his head. </p><p>Bow checks the numbers. Actual velocity, apparent velocity, acceleration, warp factor, reactor output, fuel crystal status, operating temperature, bearing, time to destination. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s forgetting something, so he checks again. And again. And then one more time. In the midst of what Bow has decided is his final check, his careful flow is interrupted by a frustrated huff from beside him.</p><p>He looks up from the screen finally, and there is Glimmer in her royal purple jumpsuit, arms crossed, leaning against the dashboard and looking pointedly away from Bow. There’s a very familiar tension in the air between them, but Bow still doesn’t know of any way to defuse it other than to just let Glimmer snap.</p><p>Bow asks carefully, steeling himself for whatever his girlfriend is about to say, “Is there something you want to talk about, Glim?” </p><p>“I just don’t get it, Bow!” she blurts out before Bow finishes his question. “I thought we were done with this stuff. I thought this was supposed to be a fun trip. Why are we throwing ourselves into another battle?”</p><p>Bow sighs. “I know, believe me. I wish this could have stayed a simple, easy space vacation too.” He swivels his seat around to the right and reaches for one of Glimmer’s hands. She lets him take it, but doesn’t turn to look at him. “But we do have a responsibility here. Space is big, and mostly empty, and if someone needs help, we might be the only hope they have. Especially when it comes to fighting the Horde.”</p><p>Finally, Glimmer turns and meet’s Bow’s eyes. Her iridescent irises shimmer, reflecting the glow of warping space outside the viewports, but they still look dull somehow, and her hair has none of its characteristic sheen. Bow isn’t sure if it’s from the lack of magic or from the exhausting monotony of life on a starship.</p><p>“You sound like Adora,” Glimmer says after a beat, and Bow isn’t sure if she means it in a good way or a good-but-bad way.</p><p>Hoping for the best, Bow chuckles. “Yeah, I know. We both tend to … care a lot. Sometimes too much.”</p><p>The neutral look on Glimmer’s face fades to a frown. “And not always about the right people. What about us, Bow? We’re her best friends—her <em> family. </em> Shouldn’t our safety come first?”</p><p>It hurts to hear Glimmer talk this way, as if Adora would ever risk the lives of the people she loves. She would sooner die—she damn near did, more than once. Bow doesn’t think that will ever change. His headache pounds behind his furrowed brow, and Bow’s next words come out a little harsher than he intended.</p><p>“We wouldn’t be doing this right now if Adora thought there was any chance that we would get hurt. She would never let that happen, not even if it put her own life at stake. You should know that, Glimmer.”</p><p>Tears form at the edges of Glimmer’s glittering eyes and she pulls her hand away from Bow’s.</p><p>Bow rubs at his forehead with two fingers, trying to work out the muscle tension and maybe get his thoughts straight.</p><p>“I—I’m sorry, Glim,” he starts, but he scolds himself when his apology doesn’t sound genuine enough. “I just meant that Adora is always thinking about us. She does care about our safety first, always. She’s compassionate above all, but she’s also smart and decisive. That’s why we made her captain.”</p><p>Reminding Glimmer of Adora’s role on the ship clearly wasn’t the right move, because the tears start spilling down her soft cheeks as gentle gasps shake her body. Bow makes a mental note to kick himself about it later, but he stands up from his chair as soon as he realizes what’s happening and wraps Glimmer up in his arms, gently stroking the buzzed hair on the back of her head. She stays pressed against his chest for a minute, then slowly unravels herself and slides her arms around Bow’s waist, underneath his bomber jacket. Bow leans down and buries his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar fruity scent of her shampoo.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to Glimmer’s head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Between sobs, Glimmer speaks against Bow’s chest, “I just feel useless up here. I feel like a sitting duck. I can’t do magic, I can’t fix things, I can still barely even cook. All I do is waste air and get mad for no reason.”</p><p>Bow strokes the back of her head slowly.</p><p>“You know that’s not true, sweetheart. You’re here because you’re smart, and kind, and brave, and because we wouldn’t—<em> couldn’t </em>be here without you.” Glimmer pulls away from his chest and looks at him, her eyes pleading for comfort. A tiny smile begins to curl the ends of her plush lips.</p><p>“Plus,” Bow continues, returning her smile, “You are technically the official ambassador for, like, our whole planet. So you’re basically the most important person on this ship.”</p><p>The smile stays on Glimmer’s lips but fades from her eyes as she looks away. “Yeah,” she says wistfully.</p><p>Bow lets his face fall as he gazes down at the girl in his arms. Why can’t he just make her feel better, just soak up all her grief like a sponge like he used to? They’ve been together in some capacity for almost their whole lives. Comforting Glimmer has always come as second nature to Bow. But for the past few months, even since before they left on this journey, Bow’s been feeling like his ability to be there for her has been slipping somehow. He always feels like he’s forgetting something, like if he could just think a little clearer, work a little harder, he would remember what to do to make Glimmer forget she was ever sad or hurt or angry. But no matter how badly he wants to be better, his mind just keeps getting foggier.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>That night, Adora has a dream.</p><p>It starts off in a familiar place: a lush green field, spiked with crystals under a darkened sky, with the gaping maw of a portal towering in front of her. Beside her stands a golden spirit: She-Ra. The spirit emanates warmth and peace and safety. Despite She-Ra’s presence, Adora feels uneasy. The air gets cold, the grass becomes covered in wet leaves, and tall evergreen trees take the place of the crystal points. Across the field, beyond the portal, Adora sees what at first appears as a mirror image of herself. But when she looks closer, the figure is … not right. She can’t tell why. Standing next to the distant figure is another spirit, barely there but glowing faintly with silver light.</p><p>When she looks up at the portal, it’s no longer a portal, but rather a large round window. The view is of a rocky planetoid’s star-filled horizon. An asteroid streaks past. Her vision refocuses on the reflection in the window. Adora sees a face that is hers, but is not hers. It’s a face filled with far less hope and far more vengeance.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Hordak </em>
</h3><p>Entrapta babbles into a recorder as she flits around the engineering deck, frantically gathering cables and tubes, twisting knobs and throwing switches as the warp reactor buzzes incessantly. She’s been at it like this for hours now, since the moment she slid down the ladder—what she would refer to as “this morning,” even though the concept is irrelevant in their current situation.</p><p>She’s trying to keep the reactor cool, which Hordak thought was a fool’s errand. The device uses a tremendous amount of energy to stretch space along the fourth dimension. The only results such a process could produce are either an near-immeasurable amount of heat or a hole in the fabric of spacetime. Yet, somehow, their vessel has not yet been consumed by an unstable wormhole or spontaneously combusted. Whatever Entrapta is doing, it’s working. Her genius never ceases to amaze him.</p><p>Hordak, however, does not impress himself. He is tapping away at a computer console with three large screens, just as he has been since Entrapta gave him this task. Still, a solution evades him. He looks up at the screen to his left and sees a pattern that makes him feel sickly: a web of curves and lines rendered in green, connecting infinite nodes to a central nexus. The former proprietary network of Horde Prime’s remote mind-control and surveillance system. On the next screen over, he looks over what he’s been writing, or trying to write, for hours. It’s a code that, when broadcast over the unique signal network, should temporarily disable or stun every clone, robot, or vessel within receiving range. He’s tried at least a hundred different signal patterns now, and the simulation on the third screen has shown each combination to be unsuccessful. Hordak is reaching the end of his—admittedly, very short—patience.</p><p>Still, times like these, working side-by-side with Entrapta on some engineering project or another, are the only times when Hordak feels anything close to a reasonable definition of “normal.” He lets himself forget, if only for a short while, that he is still an undesirable, a prisoner of the self-righteous rebels that call themselves the crew of this vessel. Even after his betrayal of Horde Prime, who had been the only source of meaning in his life before this, even after his repentance and his service to the reconstruction of Etheria’s kingdoms, the brats that Entrapta calls “friends” still don’t believe that he is worthy of freedom. And now he is trapped inside a polished piece of rubbish, flying through space with them.</p><p>Even Catra, that wretched creature that knows no loyalty or obedience, has been absolved and now stands above him. What has she done that he hasn’t done in equal measure? The only reason they’ve forgiven Catra and not Hordak is that Adora, their ridiculous She-Ra, has taken her as a lover. Two traitors, now parading around hand-in-hand as Etheria’s saviors. All the while, Hordak is once again stuck attempting to prove his worth to people who will never accept him. He’s going so far as to actually aid them in defeating a remnant of Horde Prime’s empire, only so that his captors might not abandon him in cold space. The irony is not lost on him.</p><p>His claws clack against the keys as he types a few more lines of code, knowing that this sequence will surely fail just as the last hundred have. Failure is still something he struggles to understand the value of. Why is Entrapta insisting that they create this jamming signal, knowing that there is a very low likelihood of success? The only certain path to victory is through the muzzle of a cannon. Why waste all this effort to <em> possibly </em>save the lives of beings that mean nothing to these rebels?</p><p>As he ponders these questions, he hits the return key to run the program once more using his most recent version of the code. He stares vacantly as the results populate, expecting nothing, just as there has been nothing innumerable times before. But this time, there is something. Three red X-marks appear over the icons representing clones, bots, and ships. At the bottom of the screen, a line of text reads, “Result: 100% Targets Disabled.” By some stroke of dumb luck, Hordak has happened upon the correct signal pattern. He feels something in his chest akin to pride, as unfamiliar an emotion to him as that is. For some reason, the knowledge that Entrapta will be happy with him brings him warmth.</p><p>Hordak stands up from his seat at the computer terminal to inform Entrapta of his success. She’s now standing in front of the warp reactor, feet wide and arms at the ready, breathing heavily. One of her hair extensions reaches to her brow to wipe away the sweat there. She looks distressed. Hordak hopes he can help relieve her of her burdens in some way.</p><p>“Entrapta,” he begins, but he does not finish. </p><p>This is when the alarms begin to blare, and a voice that is far too calm for the situation announces, <em> “Alert: Coolant Temperature Approaching Critical. Emergency Shutdown Recommended.” </em></p><p>Entrapta turns to Hordak with panic in her eyes, but a clear spark of genius still shining through. A robotic hair extension reaches up to her head and slams her visor down.</p><p>“Hordak, I’m <em> so </em> glad you’re here. I’m gonna need a few extra hands for this.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Gravity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The crew faces down a Horde cruiser above the barren planet where the distress signal originated. Things don't quite go according to plan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Glimmer </em>
</h3><p>It’s been a weird day. And not in the fun way.</p><p>Yesterday was bad enough, with the distress signal and the arguments and the impromptu rescue mission. Glimmer had as good a night of sleep as she could have after all that, which is to say, not very good at all. She and Bow found themselves lying awake together silently more than a few times. Bow was, as always, very willing to hold her and mumble little stories and lullabies to help her fall asleep, but it just didn’t work last night.</p><p>After waking up exhausted, they have a pretty awkward breakfast with Adora, Catra, and Entrapta. Nobody says much. Glimmer tried at one point to lighten the mood with a friendly jab about Catra’s habit of sleeping in, but Catra just grunts and stares down at her plate of instant eggs and rehydrated potatoes. Entrapta leaves early, saying something about needing to solve the coolant problem. She asks if she could take the fridge, to which Glimmer and the rest all reply with a chorus of “no.” That’s about the only thing they’ve all agreed on since yesterday.</p><p>Glimmer leads everyone in a review of their diplomatic procedures in light of their imminent contact, followed by Catra, who reviews the contingency plans she had developed just in case hostilities arose with the single marooned traveler they were about to meet. It seems ironic to be calling these plans “just in case,” seeing as they’re about to charge full-speed into a battle against the Horde.</p><p>Was it not enough for them to have nearly lost everything taking down Horde Prime? Why do Glimmer and her friends have to be the ones to stamp out every ember of his dying empire? If this continues, Glimmer fears the war might never really be over. Then again, she supposes it makes a terrible sort of sense that Catra, Adora and Bow—and parts of herself, though she may deny it—are so hungry for conflict. Etheria has been at peace for two years now, but the war dragged on for forty years before that. Two generations raised with weapons in their hands. It’s no wonder they’re so quick to fight; fighting is all they’ve ever known.</p><p>After lunch, the preparations for the rescue mission begin in earnest. Adora goes over the plan she’s developed in excruciating detail, accompanied by all sorts of diagrams and maps, with several potential scenarios. Glimmer tunes out after scenario 4B, but she gets the jist.</p><p>Essentially, the plan is to drop out of warp a few hundred thousand klicks out from the planet. Bow will navigate to the nearest moon or natural satellite for cover, Glimmer will broadcast a jamming signal to disable the Horde ship—or ships, they were still unsure what kind of force they’d be dealing with—and they’ll swoop in to save whoever this dingus is.</p><p>As ridiculous and dangerous as it all sounds, Glimmer is glad she at least has something to do. If Adora is going to throw the whole squad into danger like this, the least she can do is give Glimmer a piece of the action.</p><p>The crew shares a silent dinner on the bridge. Glimmer can tell as they shovel down their bowls of pasta and vegetables—courtesy of Bow—that everyone’s nerves are beginning to fray. Adora’s heroic seriousness thins to allow her ceaseless anxiety to crackle under the surface; Catra’s tail twitches incessantly, belying the calculated confidence that conceals her fear. And Bow … Bow is already tired.</p><p>Everyone’s emotions are on full display to Glimmer now, as they all sit at their stations, doing final checks of all the systems, making sure this whole thing will go off without a hitch. She could cut the stress with a knife. Glimmer herself is frustrated with all the angst at this point. It’s getting exhausting, coupled with the countless fears that are welling up inside her own mind. </p><p>She tries to distract herself with her assigned duties, but there’s nothing left for her to do. At her station, the communications and sensors control, there’s really not much to check; it’s just a bunch of radios, she’s pretty sure. She should be reassured by the simplicity of her part in this plan, but it’s not enough to quell the feeling that they’re about to fly into a disaster.</p><p>Glimmer glances at Bow sitting at the helm, and it looks like he might be under the same impression. His bomber jacket is folded haphazardly over the back of his chair. With his obligatory crop top, his chiseled abdomen is exposed and Glimmer notices a sheen of sweat on his skin. Glimmer wonders if maybe his last draft of hormone potion was a little too much, until she notices the look on his face: horror.</p><p>Bow swivels his chair around to face Adora in the captain’s seat. His voice squeaks when he talks, a tell-tale sign that something is definitely wrong.</p><p>“Adora, I think the reactor is gonna—”</p><p>He’s interrupted by a buzzing alarm and a blinking red light on the control panel. Bow spins back around quickly, letting out a panicked squeak that would be really cute if they weren’t in peril. Then, Entrapta’s voice comes in over the intercom, sounding just as terrified, if not moreso.</p><p>
  <em> “We have to shut the engines down, now!” </em>
</p><p>“What?!” Adora shrieks. Her hair is noticeably disheveled, loose from its usual slicked-back style. “Why? What’s happening?”</p><p>
  <em> “The warp reactor is overheating! The coolant system won’t be able to handle the pressure for much longer, we have to stop as soon as possible and wait for the fluid to cool!” </em>
</p><p>Adora curses under her breath. “How long will that take?”</p><p><em> “Uh …” </em> Entrapta can be heard tapping on a screen on the other end of the intercom. <em> “A day. Or maybe two. Plus a couple more days to repair the damage in the ducts. We could potentially keep flying on thulite power alone, but as long as the engines are running, we’d continue to risk overheating, and the stress would result in a total system failure in … eleven hours.” </em></p><p>There’s terror on everyone’s faces now. Assuming they all heard what Glimmer heard, either they stop flying for a few days, or they all die in the cold vacuum of space tomorrow morning.</p><p>“Bow,” Adora says, steadying her voice as she turns to the helm, “How long would it take us to get there at full thrusters?”</p><p>Bow looks like he’s genuinely in pain as he keys in the calculation on his console.</p><p>“We’re still at least 25 hours out without warp,” he says, his eyes locked on his screen.</p><p>Adora’s brows knit as she does the math in her head.</p><p>“We can’t afford to wait that long. This person is going to starve or freeze if we don’t stay on course.”</p><p>Glimmer counts another of her fears coming true. Adora is about to sacrifice her ship, her crew, everyone she loves just to <em> maybe </em> save one random stranger. Catra clearly shares Glimmer’s feeling of betrayal, because this is when she puts her foot down. </p><p>“Adora!” Catra shouts pleadingly, “Please! This isn’t worth it, we have to stop!”</p><p>Catra isn’t angry enough, Glimmer decides. Standing up from her station, she glares at her friend in the captain’s chair and slams her fist against the console.</p><p>“Adora, you’re about to get us all killed! This isn’t just another one of your heroic solo rescues, the people you should be worried about are <em> right here!” </em></p><p>“I know what I’m doing, Glimmer!” Adora snaps back instantly. That kind of anger only comes out when she’s determined not to back down. Glimmer tries to steady her breaths against the despair pushing at her chest as Adora takes a tone that is almost threatening in its steadiness. “We can figure this out. Nobody is getting hurt, and <em> nobody </em> is getting left behind.”</p><p>Adora drops her head into her hands and takes a few deep breaths, somehow calming herself despite the insistent alarm tones, flashing lights, and turbulent emotions of her friends.</p><p>Head down, she says, “Entrapta. What is going to happen to the coolant system if we keep going?”</p><p>There’s a heavy silence on the other end of the intercom, then the engineer responds, <em> “In order to avoid an explosive coolant duct failure, I’d have to perform an emergency pressure release, which would permanently impair Darla’s power systems. All non-essential systems would have to shut down, and we’d have to rely on emergency life support if we were to use the warp drive at all.” </em></p><p>Adora lifts her head and stares out into space, presumably looking for an answer to the impossible dilemma she’s created.</p><p><em> “Or …” </em> Entrapta continues cautiously, <em> “We could eject the warp core. We’d lose warp capability, but the other systems could continue to run as normal. It would probably take me and Hordak about a week on the ground to assemble and install a new core.” </em></p><p>Just like that, Adora allows reckless optimism to take over and drown out the dire seriousness of the situation. She looks like she’s just found the meaning of life.</p><p>“That! Let’s do that. We’ll stay on course, drop out of warp at the last second and jettison the core, fight the Horde, save the guy, and camp out for a bit while the ship gets fixed!”</p><p>She’s lost her mind, Glimmer is sure. Entrapta’s influence certainly isn’t helping. </p><p>
  <em>“It’s … very risky. We would have to time it perfectly.” </em>
</p><p>“We can do that! Right, Bow?” Adora asks cheerfully as if the ship hasn’t just started rattling.</p><p>“Uh …” Bow glances at his control panel, and then Glimmer, who glares at him, then his eyes flick nervously back to Adora. “Sure. Sure, we can do that.” He nods frantically and his voice cracks again, clinging to Adora’s confidence for dear life. Glimmer loves Bow dearly, but he can really be a pushover when he’s stressed.</p><p>“Great! Same plan, then. Just a little bit scarier, plus a camping trip. It’ll be fun!” Adora turns to Catra, who looks away and returns to her seat. A little disheartened, she turns to Glimmer. The queen narrows her eyes and shakes her head disapprovingly. If everyone survives this—and that’s still a pretty big ‘if’—she’s going to smack the gel out of Adora’s perfect hair.</p><hr/><p>The next hour on the ship could be counted among the most harrowing moments of Glimmer’s short career as an astronaut, second only perhaps to getting teleported into the vacuum of space with no protection.</p><p>As they approach their dreaded destination, <em> Darla’s </em> many panels continue to rattle with increasing intensity. At some point, it drowns out the still-blaring alarm at Bow’s station. The lights flicker constantly, straying dangerously close to shutting off completely. They may have made a lot of upgrades, but this ship won’t let her crew forget that she’s over a millennium old.</p><p>Every few minutes, Entrapta’s voice comes back over the intercom at the helm, giving Bow a countdown to disengage the warp drive.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus five minutes to disengage.” </em>
</p><p>The minutes feel like hours. Glimmer tries to count her breaths to keep calm, much like she did in her months alone on Horde Prime’s ship. But this time it doesn’t work so well; the smell of panic floods her nose with each inhalation.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus three minutes to disengage.” </em>
</p><p>Glimmer pulls her gaze from the viewport to look at Bow. This is exactly the kind of situation where she would love to be able to just bury her head in his chest and let his arms wrap her in a cocoon of familiar musk and warm skin. She’s always thought that if she were about to die, no matter how terrible the fate, she wouldn’t be scared if she was in Bow’s arms. There can be no such comfort here. The heat of her anger fades to the freezing cold of loneliness and fear.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus two minutes to disengage.” </em>
</p><p>She turns from Bow to Adora. How did it come to this? Has it really been so long since their last—no longer their final—battle that Adora has forgotten her old ways? What happened to the Adora who never let Glimmer anywhere near danger, who was determined to be the only life on the line? Glimmer knows that wasn’t healthy either, but it wasn’t <em> this. </em> It wasn’t bringing everyone down with her on a suicide mission to save one soul or settle one score.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus ninety seconds to disengage.” </em>
</p><p>A pair of mismatched eyes meet Glimmer’s stare from across the bridge. As she should have expected, Catra’s face, although less obvious, mirrors her own chilling terror. They both know how this ends, and they’re both in disbelief at the unlikelihood of these events. It reminds Glimmer of the look they shared across Prime’s dinner table once.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus sixty seconds.” </em>
</p><p>Just as Entrapta’s voice cuts out from the speaker, Catra speaks what was being left unsaid between them. It’s loud enough that the whole bridge can hear, but Glimmer is sure it’s only intended for her. </p><p>“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>‘Bad feeling’ doesn’t quite cover it, but it’s the best Catra can do to describe it. It’s not just a hunch, not just a gut feeling, not just fear. It’s something beyond emotion. It started as a twitch in her whiskers the day before, when they had first received the distress signal. At first, she had dismissed it as just nerves or some dust in the air. But since Adora gave the order yesterday, it’s been growing into something else, coming over her in intermittent waves that make the fur along her spine and tail stand on end.</p><p>The feeling is kind of a pull. It’s not physical; it’s more like her life is a piece of space debris, accelerating faster and faster toward the nearest massive object. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it’s magic. But there’s no magic here that she can sense, besides the subtle warmth of She-Ra emanating from Adora’s skin. Plus, this feeling isn’t like anything she ever felt back on Etheria. It’s not the exhilarating magnetism of being guided home by the energy of the Whispering Woods, nor is it the bone-chilling shock of Shadow Weaver’s elemental sorcery. It’s just a <em> pull, </em> almost sinister in its simplicity.</p><p>Her ears flick at the sound of Entrapta’s voice over the intercom again. <em>“T minus thirty seconds. Initializing warp core eject sequence.” </em></p><p>There’s a high-pitched whir of servos and hydraulics, and then the rattling of <em> Darla’ </em>s panels turns into a cacophonous thunder. Catra grips the sides of her seat with white knuckles and glances at Adora, looking for some semblance of comfort, but she doesn’t find it.</p><p>Adora, too, has her fingers wrapped around the edges of her armrest and her gaze locked forward out the viewport. There’s a look on her face that’s equal parts determination and fear, as if she were running headfirst into a brick wall that she’s hoping will let her through.</p><p>
  <em> “T minus fifteen seconds. Disengage warp drive on my mark.” </em>
</p><p>At the helm, Bow tightens one fist on the lever that controls the warp drive and the other on one of the two maneuvering sticks. A drop of sweat runs down his neck.</p><p>
  <em> “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.” </em>
</p><p>The entire crew holds their breath as the turbulence crescendos, shaking the solid metal floor.</p><p>
  <em> “Five.” </em>
</p><p>Under her breath, Adora mutters, “We can do this.”</p><p>
  <em> “Four.” </em>
</p><p>Glimmer barely suppresses a sob. Catra glances at her to find that her hand is clasped over her mouth, eyes screwed shut as tight as they’ll go. A tear wets her fingers.</p><p>
  <em> “Three.” </em>
</p><p>“We can do this!” Adora repeats, louder so that the whole bridge can hear.</p><p>
  <em> “Two.” </em>
</p><p>A symphony of buzzing alarms rings out from all stations, accompanied by what seems like far too many red lights for a plan that’s supposed to be working correctly.</p><p>
  <em> “One.” </em>
</p><p>Catra braces herself, and she can almost hear everyone else’s muscles clenching at the same time.</p><p>
  <em> “Mark!” </em>
</p><p>On Entrapta’s mark, Bow slams the warp drive lever backwards and the entire ship jolts as the pinkish blaze outside the viewport abruptly dissipates into inky blackness. Almost instantaneously, there’s a massive <em> whoosh </em> of decompression and a thump as the core is jettisoned.</p><p>Then, everything goes dark. Not just the mimicked twilight from the overheads, but every light on the control panels and in the etching between the panels on the floor too. All noises immediately cease, from the beeps and buzzes of the many alarms to the quiet background hum of the life support system. Suddenly, the air in the bridge feels much colder.</p><p>Adora’s face cuts a faint but sharp profile against the nearby star that is now the only source of light on the bridge. Catra can see the panic on her features as she shouts through the overwhelming silence at Bow.</p><p>“What’s going on?!”</p><p>“I—I don’t know!” Bow stammers as he mashes buttons on his control panel. “The helm isn’t responding, we’re adrift!”</p><p>Adora frantically presses the intercom button on her armrest and calls Entrapta’s name, but there’s only more silence. Not even static. She stares wide-eyed out the viewport again, her cold gray eyes reflecting the smattering of distant white specks.</p><p>“Oh, gods.”</p><p>Catra follows her gaze. In the distance, there’s a reddish-brown lump of rock, one hemisphere bathed in pale light from its sun. Despite the odds, they’ve arrived at what Catra is sure has to be their destination. </p><p>She’s only sure because hovering between them and the planet is a distinctive spearhead shape rendered in stark white and black, emblazoned with a familiar insignia in a sickening green—a Galactic Horde battleship. A big one, at that. And it’s getting bigger. Catra’s instincts take over as she reaches for the back of her neck, brushing aside the hair she had intentionally kept long to cover her scar. The menacing ship begins to fill more and more of the viewport as <em> Darla </em> is pulled in by the planet’s gravity. Catra’s claws flex against the cold metal of her console. They need to act.</p><p>She turns back to Adora. “If we don’t do something soon, they’re going to spot us. They’ve probably already picked up our signature.”</p><p>Adora opens her mouth to reply, but Bow beats her to it. “We’re dead in the water unless the helm comes back on <em> now.” </em></p><p>Just then, there’s a rush of air from the floor vents as the life support system kicks back on. As if the ship was listening, Bow’s control panel lights up and chimes. The joysticks tilt themselves, correcting the ship’s helpless drifting. Bow stares down at the controls with surprise, though Catra can’t tell if it’s pleasant or scared. He grabs a hold of the maneuvering sticks and the low rumble of the thrusters shakes the floor as they start up again. Slowly but surely, they begin to turn away from the Horde ship.</p><p>“Can you get us to the nearest moon, Bow?” Adora asks, sounding anxiously hopeful.</p><p>“I think so, it should be—”</p><p>Catra’s defense controls beep a long tone as they begin to come back online. She turns back to her control panel to assess the situation. The cannons indicate that they’re warming up, but the shields are reduced to 25 percent of their strength.</p><p>“Wherever we’re going, we need to get there fast. I don’t think we could take a hit from a ship that size right now,” Catra says.</p><p>Adora nods in response, then looks back to the helm. “Full ahead, Bow. Glimmer,” she says, turning to the comms station, “Will the comms be back online in time for us to send that jamming signal?”</p><p>Glimmer swivels around to face Adora. Catra can practically feel Glimmer’s fear; her cheeks are stained with tear-tracks and her shoulders tremble with the effort of keeping herself together. She remembers that face. It’s the same face that watched in horror and cried out at the televised image of Adora, helpless and without She-Ra, at the mercy of one of Prime’s bots. Neither Glimmer nor Catra escaped his grasp without scars. Glimmer’s may not be physical like Catra’s, but they are just as visible.</p><p>Glimmer’s voice falters as she begins to speak, but she doesn’t finish. There’s a blinding flash of green accompanied by a thunderous crash as the entire ship is rocked to starboard. A counterpoint of alarms begin to blare as red lights flash all over the bridge.</p><p>“What the hell was that?!” Adora shouts at nobody in particular. </p><p>A pretty stupid question, Catra thinks, given the circumstances. She looks to the defense controls to confirm her suspicion, and sure enough, a diagram of the ship is displaying blinking red X icons at the apex of <em> Darla </em>’s pyramid-shaped hull. There’s only the slightest hint of panic in Catra’s voice as she answers Adora’s question.</p><p>“We’re hit. It doesn’t look too bad, it only grazed us. But they’ll fire again once they see we’re still flying. We need evasive maneuvers, and then we need to take them down before they do any more damage.”</p><p>Adora looks deep into Catra’s eyes for stability. Although her trust in Adora’s decisions has been shaken, Catra knows that trust is the only thing that’s going to keep them together and get them out of this alive. Catra returns Adora’s gaze, hoping she can find her meaning. <em> Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other. </em></p><p>A smile creeps across Adora’s lips and Catra knows her point got across.</p><p>“Bow, keep them on their toes,” she says with confidence. “Glimmer, once we’re in range, broadcast the jamming signal, then—”</p><p>“Adora,” Glimmer interrupts shakily, “the comms are dead. We can’t broadcast the signal.”</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>“What?!” Adora gasps.</p><p>Despite the mile-long list of contingencies that Adora had planned for, she had somehow forgotten to account for this. The jamming signal—Glimmer—was the one thing that she was sure wouldn’t fail, the <em> piece de resistance. </em>But apparently out here in space, the only certainty is uncertainty.</p><p>“Entrapta,” she says into the intercom, “What’s the damage?”</p><p>There’s a beat of dead air, then Entrapta’s voice rings out from the speaker. <em> “A lot!” </em> She pants and fumbles with something on the other end. <em> “Despite my best efforts, the thulite reactor overheated, which ruptured a duct and forced a shutdown. I managed to get her back online, but then … The communications array took a direct hit. I’ll only be able to fix it on an EVA.” </em></p><p>Adora closes her eyes and grimaces with the weight of the decision she has to make.</p><p>“We don’t have time for a spacewalk. We have to protect ourselves. Entrapta,” she says plaintively, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Adora …” Glimmer starts, but she doesn’t continue. Adora looks at her, stricken with guilt. She knows this is exactly what Glimmer wanted to avoid, the reignition of a war they had thought to be long over. But once again, Adora’s best isn’t enough for Glimmer. It isn’t enough for Entrapta, or even Catra or Bow, let alone herself. She hopes it’s enough at least for the one lost soul down on that dusty planet.</p><p>She forces herself to hold her head high and then gives her orders.</p><p>“Bow, bring us about. Catra …” Adora pauses, giving one more thought to what she’s about to do. Regret is all she finds, and it shows through in her voice. “Fire on that ship with everything we’ve got.”</p><p>Catra nods solemnly and takes hold of the control columns that aim the guns. Adora watches Catra’s holo-display as two sets of yellow crosshairs converge on the green chevron representing the target. She glances up to the viewport. From their current position, the Horde ship looks no bigger than the icon that represents it on the map. It might as well be a simulation with how easily she’s ordered its destruction. A chill runs down Adora’s spine. Has she really become this numb to violence?</p><p>The triggers click. There’s a percussive shudder in the floor panels and the ship lurches, barely restraining the recoil of the massive ion cannons as they unleash two deadly red beams on the Horde ship’s hull.</p><p>Adora knows Hordak and Entrapta built the weapons, so she shouldn’t be surprised at the damage they can do. Still, she gasps quietly as their volley makes contact with the side of the Horde ship and rips through the hull like a rock through wet paper. A ball of flame erupts in slow motion from the breach, followed by a larger one further up the side of the distant starship. A chain reaction tears the Horde cruiser in half, a child’s plaything rent to pieces on a dark carpet of stars.</p><p>The whole bridge breathes a sigh, but it isn’t one of relief.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Entrapta </em>
</h3><p>Entrapta isn’t sure there are any mission priorities left for her to fail.</p><p>She’s slumped over her knees, sitting on the floor of the engineering bay with her back against the wall. The residual heat from the reactor slows her thoughts to a remorseful trickle.</p><p>In the span of about half an hour, the warp reactor failed, then the thulite reactor overheated, then the weakened shields couldn’t stop a direct hit from taking out the communications array. And then, her greatest failure, priorities be damned: all those clones, all those <em> brothers, </em>interred in a grave of fire and ice, their bodies doomed to float through space until they find a gravity well to sink into.</p><p>Entrapta hangs her head with grief. She doesn’t notice Hordak approaching at first—she only lifts her head when she sees the shiny buckles of his boots sticking out from under his coveralls. His ruby-red eyes are fixed on her, brows pushed together in what Entrapta is fairly sure is a display of concern. He kneels down and places a clawed hand on her shoulder.</p><p>Entrapta fights past the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes. Once she’s sure she can do so without breaking, she speaks.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Hordak. I couldn’t save them.”</p><p>“I … don’t understand,” he says hesitantly. “Why do you consider yourself responsible for them? What made them worthy of your protection? They were not unique, there are trillions of us.”</p><p>“That’s exactly it, Hordak,” Entrapta says. “There are so many of them—of <em> you. </em> And if there’s a chance that any of the clones could be like you, then they’re all worth saving. And besides that,” She pauses to wipe her tears on her grease-stained sleeve. “They’re your brothers. Your family. And when you—when you love someone, their family is your family too.”</p><p>Hordak’s jaw hangs slightly open as he considers Entrapta’s words. The meaningful silence they share is permeated with the renewed thrum of the engines as <em> Darla </em> begins her steady descent to the barren planet below.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for continuing to read! This chapter is pretty heavy, so here's a little levity for you. 1) There's a Star Wars reference in here somewhere, if you squint. 2) Adora's inner monologue using the phrase <i>"piece de resistance"</i> is a little play on the "academie" bit from s2e7 "Reunion." I'm still pretty sure that was the funniest joke in the show. 3) Whenever I opened my document to write this chapter, I couldn't stop myself from singing the chorus from "Bulletproof Heart" by MCR.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ash and Dust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a long day full of troubles, the crew finally meets the stranded traveler that Adora insisted on rescuing. And there's definitely something weird about him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Bow </em>
</h3><p>She’s sluggish, but <em> Darla </em> is flying again. Not falling. The control columns twitch in Bow’s hands, the ship correcting herself gently as he pilots her in a wide arc around the remains of the Horde ship, down to the dusty red planet. He carefully rolls as they approach so that the wreckage isn’t visible from the bridge. Nobody needs to be reminded about what they just had to do.</p><p>It was necessary, Bow knows. Destroying the other ship was the only way they were going to make it out alive. That doesn’t make it weigh any less on his mind. He put up with violence well enough during the war, but only because he had to. He never took any pleasure in hurting people. The only reason he had been such an effective fighter was that the Horde had usually sent their bots to attack first, not their soldiers. Bow had always been thankful for that, in a twisted sort of way. The robots did far more damage than any soldier could have, but at least taking them down involved no bodily violence. No gore, just gears. What they just did, though … He’s trying not to think too much about it.</p><p>He has plenty of other reasons to be stressed anyway, like the fact that his girlfriend and his best friend are clearly in conflict again. Bow knows ultimately that it’s up to Glimmer and Adora to resolve that, but he still has to be the one who watches it happen, who holds Glimmer’s hand and comforts her and tells her it’s okay when he’s not so sure that it is.</p><p>Glimmer had left the bridge shortly after they destroyed the Horde ship. He didn’t see her expression, but Bow could feel the frustration and the fear radiating off of her. Adora hasn’t spoken since then.</p><p>As the planet grows larger and larger in the viewport, its atmosphere a mist of pale blue, Adora breaks her silence.</p><p>“I’m going to go talk to her.”</p><p>Bow slowly swivels away from the controls, careful to make sure the ship’s trajectory is steady before turning to face Adora. But by the time he looks to the captain’s chair, she’s already walking through the door. His eyes flick to the side to catch Catra’s knowing gaze.</p><p>“So,” Catra says, her neutral mask betrayed by her anxiously flicking tail, “That … could have gone worse.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Bow laughs cynically under his breath. He peers out the viewport toward where he knows the wasted Horde ship floats. “Could have gone better too, though.”</p><p>Catra sighs quietly. She glances back to the doors as they slide shut with a hiss that makes her ears twitch. Bow has never been able to read Catra as easily as he can Glimmer or Adora, but he can confidently guess as to what’s on her mind.</p><p>“Don’t worry about Glimmer and Adora, they’ll … It’ll be okay. They’ve had way worse fights before.” Bow stares at the floor and grimaces with old pain as he recalls watching Glimmer go from his best friend to a powerful queen, willing to forsake her friends and her planet for the chance to win a battle. How frustrating, that even after all that Glimmer has done to make it up to him, the memory still hurts. It makes Bow wonder if things will ever really be okay.</p><p>Catra lets Bow’s words hang in the stale air for a moment before she replies, “I know.” Bow glances back up to find her face painted subtly with worry. He smiles weakly at her; it’s nice to have someone to share his concern with.</p><p>“Glimmer’s just been struggling with feeling useful, is all. I think watching Adora do all that so decisively just made her feel kind of powerless,” Bow says timidly. </p><p>Catra’s ears perk slightly as she cocks an eyebrow. “I think I can understand. Adora was acting pretty weird, though, I’ll give Sparkles that. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this.”</p><p>“You mean, all, ‘let’s go fight the Horde and save the—uh, person?’” Bow raises a fist in a mock heroic gesture.</p><p>“Nah, that’s normal Adora stuff. I mean how she sort of … lost her cool.”</p><p>Bow’s not sure Adora ever had a ‘cool’ to begin with, but he can guess Catra is talking about Adora’s erratic swings from frustration to confidence to hopelessness in the face of a series of impossible choices.</p><p>“I guess she did, sort of. I don’t know. I think I would have too.” </p><p>Catra looks away, grimacing slightly.</p><p>“Something else on your mind?” Bow asks. He and Catra don’t talk very often but when they do it’s often surprisingly candid.</p><p>“Kind of,” she says, gazing out at the planet that now fills about half their viewport. “I just have this weird feeling, like something is pulling us in. Like we’re circling a drain, or something. I don’t know, it’s probably nothing. I just thought it might have something to do with the way Adora was acting.”</p><p>Bow doesn’t exactly know what she means, but tries to sympathize anyway. Catra has these gut feelings sometimes, and it’s usually wise to trust them, but he doesn’t want to believe this rescue mission could get any worse. With his emotional capacity nearly spent, his reply comes out sounding less understanding than he intends.</p><p>“That’s definitely a weird feeling.”</p><p>Catra examines him curiously, like she’s peeking through a crack in a wall.</p><p>“What’s up with you, Arrow Boy?”</p><p>“Me? Uh, nothing!” Bow fakes a smile and leans against his control panel. His arm pushes a maneuvering stick to the right and jolts the whole ship, almost knocking him out of his chair before he corrects it. He turns back to Catra and chuckles like nothing happened. “I’m totally fine.”</p><p>“Gods, you’re almost a worse liar than Adora.” She rises from her chair at the defense station and strolls over to the helm, pushing a claw against Bow’s forehead to tilt his gaze up to meet her. “Come on, spit it out.”</p><p>Blue and gold eyes drill into the dam of his emotions, and Bow can’t hold back the flood.</p><p>“I’m just <em> so </em> tired, Catra. I’m tired of flying and searching and … holding people up.” <em> Holding Glimmer up, </em> he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to admit that. “I haven’t slept a good night in a month. And now with this, it feels like I might never rest again.”</p><p>A hint of sympathy crosses Catra’s face. She places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently, then drops it and brings back her familiar casual tone.</p><p>“There, isn’t that better? Keeping quiet about things never turns out well.” Catra faces the viewport and holds herself, her voice reducing to a raspy mutter. “Trust me. I would know.”</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>Why is it that whenever she makes plans, there’s always something Adora forgets to account for? Whether it’s the communications array or Glimmer’s feelings, no matter how many different scenarios she thinks of, something always gets left out of her calculations. It’s the one thing she still hates herself for.</p><p>She pushes her short, mussed hair back out of her face as she walks down the corridor, tugging at the roots slightly as she racks her brain for a way to fix things with Glimmer. It was always so easy with Glimmer before, during the war—well, not always. Before the portal it was. </p><p>Back then, Adora just clicked with Glimmer in a way she never had with anyone, besides Catra. Glimmer made her feel warm and bubbly, like one of those fizzy drinks they served at balls. She and Bow used to gush to each other about her, about the light the then-princess brought to any room she walked into, about the way their skin would tingle when she pressed a kiss to their cheeks. Everything was simpler back then, Glimmer’s affection a welcome respite from the anguish of the war, of having to face down her best friend in battle.</p><p>Adora is happy, generally, with the way things are now—Catra in her bed every night, purring and giggling with her, Bow and Glimmer providing a counterpoint during the day, Entrapta just being Entrapta. But she can’t deny there are times when she misses those early days.</p><p>That’s what’s on her mind as she nearly walks into Glimmer, standing with her back to Adora outside her bedroom. They both startle, then let out a sigh in unison as each realizes the other’s presence. Glimmer faces Adora cautiously, her lavender eyes glistening with fresh tears under the dim hallway lights.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Glimmer, I …” Adora whispers. She’s never been good with apologies, never known exactly what to say. Instead she places a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder and gently strokes down her arm, hoping she can feel the love.</p><p>Glimmer’s expression remains sad as she asks coldly, “For what, Adora?”</p><p>This is the part Adora isn’t good with: figuring out what she did wrong. In this case, she’s pretty sure morality is on her side. She knows right from wrong, and ultimately, saving this person is the right thing to do. Adora is just sorry it had to go this way, but she knows better than to say that—it was still her responsibility to keep everyone out of danger, and she failed. She won't try to deny it. Instead, she lets the silence get heavy, watching the pain in Glimmer’s eyes fade to resignation as Adora almost speaks, but stops herself.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Glimmer says with a breath. “Just … Be more careful. We’ve all had enough of this war.”</p><p>Adora nods and grips Glimmer’s arm gently. “Okay.”</p><p>She turns to walk back toward the bridge, but before she can take a step, a soft hand grabs Adora’s wrist. She looks back at Glimmer just as a tear rolls down her round, pink cheek.</p><p>“Am I still important to you?” Glimmer asks, so softly it’s barely audible over the rumble of the engines.</p><p>Adora’s hand slips around Glimmer’s fingers.</p><p>“You’re the most important person on the ship, Glim. We couldn’t—”</p><p>“Not to the mission, Adora. To <em> you.” </em></p><p>Adora’s blood runs cold as she realizes what exactly she did wrong. Naturally, Glimmer is one of the most important people in Adora’s life. She can’t bear to think that she’s letting Glimmer forget that.</p><p>“Of course you are. You’ll always matter to me, Glimmer. I’m sorry.” Adora runs her thumb along the ridges of Glimmer’s knuckles. She gets a small, sad smile in return.</p><p>What is Adora so distracted by that she’s neglecting the people she cares about? Although they aren’t under any orders, Adora still feels compelled by something to go farther, push harder. It’s a sharp-edged curiosity that asks, <em> Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to see? </em></p><p>And she can’t deny, she does.</p><hr/><p>Thanks to Bow’s piloting skill, it was a relatively smooth landing, despite the damage to the propulsion systems. Now, standing side-by-side in the airlock, Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, and Entrapta prepare to disembark. They each pull their pressure suits over their skin-tight thermal layers, fasten the seals on their boots, gloves, and helmets, and activate their alchemical air supplies. Just as they reviewed, Glimmer steps to the front of the group, leading the crew as Etheria’s chief diplomat.</p><p>“Everyone remember the procedures?” Glimmer asks as she turns to her friends. The dim, purplish lights of the airlock glint off of the silver badge on her chest: the four-pointed star, surrounded by the crescent of Bright Moon, flanked on either side by a fleet wing and superimposed over the Sword of Protection.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Catra says, waving a hand dismissively, “We come in peace, representing Etheria, diplomatic mission.”</p><p>She’s either trying to be funny, or just genuinely tired from the day they’ve had. Adora is betting it’s the latter. Either way, Glimmer is tired too, and she’s not very entertained.</p><p>“Catra,” Glimmer says dryly, “This is serious. Do you remember what we talked about?”</p><p>Catra sighs, her tail drooping in its specialized pressure sleeve. “No power plays, I know. Geez.”</p><p>Glimmer nods, satisfied with Catra’s answer, then glances at her other friends, saving Adora for last. There’s still a hint of pain in her eyes as they meet Adora’s. <em> Be careful, </em>Glimmer seems to say wordlessly. Adora bows her head in acknowledgment.</p><p>With that, Glimmer faces the airlock door, prepared to make contact. “Depressurizing,” Entrapta announces as she punches a button on the wall. There’s a loud hiss as the air escapes through vents surrounding the thick metal door. Servos and hydraulic cylinders whine as the door pushes itself outwards, then slowly tilts down, revealing the barren landscape before them.</p><p>The planet appears at first to be a pale expanse of red dust, stretching out a short distance into a white oblivion. A wind howls, briefly dispersing the clouds and revealing their objective: the pointed end of a long, needle-shaped vessel sticking up from the ground, shading a small but sturdy-looking round tent. <em> Starship run aground. Complement: one. </em></p><p>Familiar fingers lace themselves between Adora’s as she stares at the alien scenery. Catra grasps her hand and Adora turns to look. Something inscrutable is scrawled into Catra’s features: fear? Anxiety? Distrust? Adora does her best to comfort her girlfriend discreetly, with a sympathetic look and a reciprocal squeeze of the hand. She’s not sure it will be enough.</p><hr/><p>The crew skips along the sandy terrain, eerily leaving no footprints due to the weaker gravity of the alien planet. A trek that would normally take them an hour on foot takes them just fifteen minutes as they bound effortlessly through the thin air. The outline of the crashed ship remains hazy until they’re practically on top of it.</p><p>Entrapta’s eyes go wide at the sight of the vessel. It’s damaged hull is sleek and shiny, almost impossibly so, reflecting the white light of the sun with crystalline depth. The engineer princess was uncharacteristically silent on the way over to the wreckage, but as her hair extensions lift her to get a closer look at the ship, she utters, “Fascinating.”</p><p>Subtle, straight lines run the length of the hull leading to the aft portion, where three bullet-shaped nacelles are attached by aerodynamic braces. Sitting under the towering length of the ship is a small, pressurized dome, scaffolded with an intricate web of metal tubes with hoses connecting it to the ship. A miniature arch-shaped airlock forms the only rigid part of the structure.</p><p>Glimmer heralds their arrival as she approaches the airlock cautiously.</p><p>“Hello? Uh,” she stumbles for a moment, then remembers her script. “This is—I am Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon, uh, Grand Ambassador and Head Regent of the Etherian Alliance. Uh … We come in—”</p><p>A sudden decompression from the airlock kicks up a plume of dust, temporarily obscuring the figure that climbs out as they stand to their full height. When the dust settles, the figure towers over most of the group. Adora hears Catra’s claws extend, and instinctively she channels the warmth in her chest to her right hand, almost reaching out to summon her sword before closing her fist in resistance. <em> Be careful. </em></p><p>From behind a dirty visor, a young man surveys the crew with surprise. Sweat plasters a lock of blond hair to his pale forehead and his eyes widen, showing off a pair of sky-blue irises.</p><p>“Rescuers!” he shouts excitedly. “You got my distress signal!”</p><p>“Uh … Yes?” Glimmer responds tentatively. </p><p>At this, the man drops to one knee and takes Glimmer’s thickly gloved hand in his own. “Thank the stars! Your Majesty, I am eternally grateful. My name is Adam of the House of Randor, at your humble service.”</p><p>Glimmer puffs out her chest and brings out her regal voice. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you. Um. You can stand up.”</p><p>Adam rises slowly, keeping his head bowed. It’s been a while since Glimmer actually met anybody, but she’s doing admirably. Adora knows she herself certainly wouldn’t be any better at this part.</p><p>“We have supplies and, uh, shelter.” Glimmer motions back to <em> Darla. </em>“Do you … want to come back to our ship?”</p><p>Adam’s head snaps back up as he replies gratefully. “It would be an honor to accept your hospitality.”</p><p>The dull sun catches Adam’s eyes, and for a moment, Adora swears he looks familiar somehow. His face rings in her mind like an echo of a dream, like déjà vu. Then again, she doesn’t know many other blond-haired blue-eyed people. It’s probably just a coincidence.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>If there was ever a doubt in Catra’s mind that she doesn’t like men, it vanishes the minute she watches Adam take his helmet off in <em> Darla </em>’s airlock. He shakes out a mop of wheat blond hair and tucks it behind his ears, revealing a sharp, strong jaw, dark, dark brown eyebrows, a long, elegant nose and piercing gray-blue eyes. It’s like someone took Adora’s face and pasted it onto a slightly taller, even broader-shouldered body. Catra hates it.</p><p>“So,” Bow asks as he peels off his pressure suit, “What happened to your ship?”</p><p>“I was on a mission to my people’s homeworld,” Adam says grimly, “to see if it could be resettled after the Horde decimated it centuries ago. The trip was supposed to be two easy portal-jumps: one from Empyria to here, then from here to Eternia.”</p><p>Adora fumbles and drops a boot on the floor when Adam says, "Eternia."  Where has Catra heard that word before? Bow and Glimmer seem to know it too, as they share a look of subdued shock with Adora.</p><p>“But when I emerged from the portal here, there was a rogue Horde cruiser waiting for me,” Adam continues as he removes his white survival suit, stained pink from the dust, piece by piece. “All my ship’s major systems are damaged beyond repair. I barely had enough power in the cells to send that distress signal.”</p><p>“You’re from Eternia?” Adora asks incredulously.</p><p>“Well, yes and no,” Adam says with an easier tone. “I’m a descendent of the small group of Eternians that managed to escape to the Outer Rim when Horde Prime unleashed his desolation. I’m assuming you’ve heard of Eternia before?”</p><p>Adora panics slightly. “What? Uh,” she glances to Catra sitting across from her in the airlock. Catra shakes her head subtly. “No, no I haven’t. Nope. Never heard of it.”</p><p>Time will tell if Adora ever learns how to act, but it seems to do the trick on Adam.</p><p>“Well, that’s odd, but I won’t fault you. Eternia was once the most advanced civilization in the galaxy.” Adam pauses his undressing to motion in a broad arc, the way Sea Hawk sometimes does when reciting a flagrantly embellished story. “It was my people that brought arcane technology to nearly every inhabited system, tamed the wild magic of a hundred worlds. We were the shining beacon of progress until the Horde came along.”</p><p>Glimmer quickly interjects before Adora has the chance to tell him her entire life story.</p><p>“Well, Adam, it’s a pleasure to have you aboard,” says the queen. She quickly shucks off the last of her pressure suit, not bothering to don a jumpsuit over the curve-hugging thermal layer before ushering the squad back into the ship. “We can give you a room and meals while we figure out what to do next. Come on, I’ll show you the extra bedroom.”</p><hr/><p>The artificial daylight in the halls is long gone by the time Catra makes her way to the galley to meet her crewmates. Being up this late isn’t usually a problem for Catra, given her odd feline sleeping habits, but she’s been awake for over eighteen hours now. So it’s kind of a problem.</p><p>The sleeves of her jumpsuit are tied around her waist, hanging down and brushing the fronts of her thighs as she walks through the narrow hallway. She passes Entrapta’s bedroom, Glimmer and Bow’s room, and nearly passes the extra room where their new passenger is stowed away, but stops in front of the closed door. Out of curiosity, she shuts her eyes and focuses her senses. At first only her whiskers and the tip of her tail twitch, but then suddenly all of her fur stands on end, bristling against her tank top and jumpsuit. The semi-magical <em> pull </em> is back. And just as she feared, it’s coming from behind that door. It’s coming from Adam.</p><p>Catra smooths her tail down as best she can as she continues toward the galley where her friends are waiting. When the door opens, she squints as the fluorescent lights flood her eyes. Adora, Bow, Glimmer, and Entrapta are all sitting around the metal dining table, sharing a meal of tired sighs and anxious tapping.</p><p>“Hey,” Adora says with exhausted affection. “We were beginning to think you went to bed.”</p><p>“Don’t I wish. No, I was just … checking on something,” Catra replies carefully. She’s not quite ready to discuss her feelings about Adam yet.</p><p>“Well, thanks, Major Asshole, for gracing us with your presence,” Glimmer says.</p><p>A little humor is always a good thing to hide behind, so Catra plays along.</p><p>“Please, Your Sparkliness,” she says smugly as she takes an exaggerated bow, “it is my distinct honor.”</p><p>For the first time in nearly two agonizing days, the crew shares a laugh. Catra rises from her bow to find Adora wearing that big, stupid smile and tears at the edges of her eyes. There’s nothing in the universe quite like the feeling of making Adora laugh, Catra thinks, weird magic stuff and all.</p><p>Catra sits down at the table, and after a few moments, the mirth she brought dissipates, allowing the exhaustion to take hold again.</p><p>Bow breaks the silence. “So, this guy is a First One, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, he definitely is,” Adora says. “I didn’t know Eternia was a planet, I just assumed it was some kind of made-up magic word. But it makes sense. Horde Prime did say there was some faction of them still around, and I guess I had to come from somewhere, right?”</p><p>First Ones. The same First Ones that turned Adora into part of their weapon, gave her a destiny that nearly killed her. Several things are starting to make a lot more sense to Catra.</p><p>Glimmer eyes Adora with concern.</p><p>“Adora, do you think there’s any chance …?”</p><p>One dark eyebrow rises in confusion.</p><p>“Any chance of what?”</p><p>“He looks exactly like you, dummy. You might be related,” Catra says matter-of-factly.</p><p>Adora’s eyes widen with awe and a bit of horror. “No. There’s no way, that’s … That’s too unlikely. Maybe all First Ones look like this, or maybe we’re just from the same part of the world or something.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess that’s possible,” Glimmer says. “It just seems uncanny is all.”</p><p>“You think I look uncanny?” Adora pouts.</p><p>Catra leans over and whispers, “It means mysterious, idiot.” She gives Adora a quick peck on the cheek for her troubles. Sometimes it’s cute how stupid she can be, when it’s not endangering her life.</p><p>Adora blushes and giggles. “Ooh, I didn’t know I was mysterious. I like that,” she flirts back.</p><p>“Focus, guys,” Glimmer snaps. “What are we going to do with Adam? He said his ship is broken beyond repair.”</p><p>The way Glimmer says it reveals a healthy degree of suspicion toward the stranger, Catra notices.<em> With Adam, </em>not <em>for Adam.</em> <em>He said his ship is broken, </em>as if he could be lying.</p><p>Adora exhales, then takes a confident tone despite the fatigue. “I think we should fly him to Eternia. Our previous plan wasn’t getting us anywhere. This could be our only chance to learn more about what happened while Etheria was in Despondos. That, and …” she pauses, her voice becoming more unsure as she reveals her personal motivation, “I want to see where I came from.”</p><p>Catra makes a point to brush her tail against Adora’s leg. It’s still not easy for Adora to admit when she wants something for herself. Catra can’t help but feel a little proud.</p><p>“That sounds reasonable,” says Bow, “but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. We packed enough supplies for six people for a year, but now we have seven. What if we run out before we can make it back to Etheria?”</p><p>Entrapta suddenly perks up from the data pad she’s been tapping away at.</p><p>“Well, Adam said he only brought enough provisions for a couple days, so he didn’t prepare for a lengthy trip through deep space. Plus, his ship was unusually small for a long-range interstellar vessel, and he did mention it using some kind of portal technology. And if he’s a First One, that means his ship is an advanced form of the same tech that’s inside <em> Darla </em>, which means …”</p><p>“He knows how to travel huge distances in a matter of days, and we could adapt his drive technology into our ship!” Bow says, excitedly finishing the princess’s thought. “Entrapta, you’re a genius.”</p><p>Entrapta beams at the praise. “Bow, come with me and we’ll see what we can find out about Adam’s ship!”</p><p>Bow nods eagerly, and before he can say anything else, Entrapta springs up from her seat on her hair extensions and drags him out of the galley. He waves back at Catra, Adora, and Glimmer just as the pair zip down the hallway and out of sight.</p><p>As stimulating as their chat has been, Adora and Glimmer both look like they’re about to fall out of their seats. Catra doesn’t think she’ll be far behind. With Bow and Entrapta out of the room and the energy suddenly lower, she figures it’s as good a time as any to bring up her reservations.</p><p>“Do you guys feel sort of weird about Adam?” Catra asks cautiously.</p><p>“You mean about the fact that we might be related or …?” Adora responds.</p><p>Glimmer chuckles. “Yeah, or the whole ‘Adam of the House of Randor, at your humble service, it would be my honor’ thing?”</p><p>“No, not that,” Catra dismisses with slight annoyance. “I’ve just had this bad feeling in my gut for a while now, since before we even met him.”</p><p>Catra is careful not to mention the nature of the feeling—they still don’t know that she can sense magic, and she’s not eager to tell them.</p><p>Glimmer and Adora stare at her, Glimmer with confusion, Adora with sympathy.</p><p>“I can’t say I know what you mean, but … If you feel weird about him, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Adora assures. Catra smiles gently at her.</p><p>“It’s probably just your anxiety, Catra. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he doesn’t mess with your guts,” Glimmer says lightly, tittering at her own innuendo.</p><p>Catra giggles along with Adora and lets herself forget the <em>pull </em>momentarily. Maybe it is just her overactive anxiety. Meeting new people does tend to give her flare-ups, and this is an especially strange case. It’s a simpler explanation with fewer unknowns. There’s no harm in letting herself believe it if it helps keep the worry at bay.</p><p>It’s hard to feel safe sometimes, the way Catra grew up, always running and hiding, anticipating several steps ahead of whatever torments the world had in store for her next. But Adora is here, and Adora has always meant safety. Glimmer makes her feel safe too, though in a different way. Adora feels like home; Glimmer feels more like a hiding place. </p><p>Bow, too, and even Entrapta bring her some feeling of stability. They’re predictable. Catra doesn’t lean on them the way she does Adora or Glimmer, but they fit into her routine nicely. A friendly gesture here, a quick vent session there, some incomprehensible techno-babble in the background. This is as close to a family as she’s ever had.</p><p>Catra doesn’t use the word ‘family’ lightly. It’s a promise that’s been broken too many times and never quite healed right. Before this, it was nobody. Before that, it was just Adora. Adora and … She hates to think of Shadow Weaver as family, but what other word is there for a woman who raises you—or rather, who wishes she didn’t have to raise you—than ‘mother?’</p><p>And before that, before the torture and the abuse, before the gap-toothed smiles, messy blonde hair and big blue eyes, there was something else. A memory of a memory of a memory, thickly veiled by smog, ash, and time. A hand more like her own, with fur and claws. A warm chest that purred. A hushed voice that said only one word: <em> Catra. </em></p><p>Catra sleeps peacefully in Adora’s arms that night, and in her dreams, she hears that voice. It hums a lullaby that she’s always known, but has long since forgotten how she learned. She wakes up wondering if the tune has any words.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I should be up front and say that I straight up have not ever watched He-Man, and I don't plan to. That's why I'm not using any He-Man/MotU tags, I don't want any fans of that canon coming here and thinking they're going to find a bunch of references to it. Adam (and other characters to be named) are essentially just original characters that share names with MotU characters.</p><p>That all being said, what do y'all think of Adam?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bonds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Catra and Adora have coffee. Glimmer and Catra have sausages. Hordak has beef.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>Today, it’s Catra who wakes up first. Just before the artificial daylight breaks, she peels her eyes open. The heat of Adora’s body, the smell of her skin and the curves of her arms, thighs, and abdomen all conspire to keep Catra in bed, pulling her mind back towards sleep, but something in her body is too determined. She glances at the foot of the bed and a pair of dark blue beads blink back at her, alert.</p><p><em> Shall we go and watch the sky? </em> Melog asks with a trill.</p><p>Catra nods slowly. She dare not disturb Adora’s heavy slumber—gods know, Adora needs it.</p><p>When Catra does rise early, her favorite thing to do has always been to sneak out to somewhere with a view and just watch the world waking up. It’s been different since they’ve been out here, with no moonrises, no dawn choruses of birds or magical Whispering Woods creatures. But it’s a comfortable habit nonetheless.</p><p>Carefully, Catra extricates herself from her girlfriend’s warm embrace and climbs out of bed. She slips into Adora’s white and gold sweatshirt and an old pair of leggings as quietly as possible. She doesn’t bother to fix her hair, leaving it wild and messy before slipping out of the bedroom with Melog at her side.</p><p>As they walk, Catra’s tail swishing idly, she hums the lullaby from her dream under her breath. She’s had this melody all her life. Sometimes when she’d had an especially difficult day in the Horde, she would use it to soothe herself as she lay curled up at the foot of Adora’s cot. She never thought anything of it then; it was an instinct, as natural as a purr or a twitch of the ear or a flick of the tail. But now it’s at the front of her mind.</p><p>The lullaby is a bittersweet reminder that there are things about herself that she’ll never know. She and Adora once joked that they were “team ‘mysterious origins.’” Bow and Glimmer, everyone else in the Alliance, even Scorpia, they all know where they come from. They all know their parents—knew them. Miss them. Catra and Adora are the only ones among their friends who have no idea who brought them into the world. Now, Adora having found a possible relative and setting a course to find more, Catra supposes she’s soon to be the only one. </p><p>The bridge is graciously empty. The weak sun of the barren planet they’re camping on barely makes any effort at lighting the room. Without a dust storm currently raging, the sky is tinted dark blue by the thin atmosphere, twinkling stars still visible. </p><p>Melog jumps gracefully onto the dashboard above the defense controls. They turn expectantly to Catra, who follows suit, launching herself up on all fours and balancing herself with her tail. She lets one leg hang over the control panel as she hugs the other knee close to her chest. Staring out into the unknown, Catra repeats her quiet, wordless song like a prayer.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>Just like clockwork, Adora’s eyes snap open at 0630 on the dot, just as the lights begin to glow a burnt orange. She feels a twinge of sadness when she realizes there’s no warm, purring weight nestled in her arms. There’s no dark brown hair for her to bury a kiss in and receive a hushed, raspy <em> Hey, Adora </em> in return.</p><p>In the past, this would have concerned Adora. In the first few months after the war, Catra slept like a log. To find her out of bed before daybreak meant something was absolutely wrong; usually it was nightmares, other times it was just excess anxious energy—her body telling her to run even though there was no longer anything to run from.</p><p>Now, though, this is just a part of Catra’s sleep cycle. Adora is quite proud of herself for having figured out Catra’s circadian rhythms. The first night is a normal sleep; eight hours, no fits, easy wake-up just before breakfast. Then, there’s two or three nights where Catra stays in bed closer to ten hours, punctuated randomly by occasional nightmares and bouts of restlessness. After that, there’s the early morning day: Catra sleeps unusually peacefully, no twitching or kicking, and then wakes up around 0500. On those days, she usually slips off to the balcony in their room in the castle and waits for Adora to wake up. After that, there’s a night or two where Catra hardly falls asleep until well past midnight, then sleeps until around noon. Then it starts again.</p><p>There’s little joys in all of those nights for Adora: falling asleep gently with Catra curled up in her arms; waking up, showering, and bringing Catra a cup of coffee in bed just as she opens her eyes; holding her close through a nightmare, kissing her softly and whispering, <em> I’m here, you’re safe, </em> until she falls back asleep; slipping her arms around Catra’s waist from behind and resting her head in the crook of her neck as she watches the moonrise over Bright Moon Town.</p><p>As Adora remembers these simple pleasures, the sense of loss fades. Just the thought of the warmth that will bloom in her chest when Catra smiles at her walking onto the bridge is enough to get her out of bed. As Adora pulls on her white and gold sweatpants, she notes the conspicuous absence of the sweatshirt that’s meant to match it. Instead, she opts for Catra’s ragged red t-shirt.</p><hr/><p>Adora watches the coffee ripple in the two mugs she carries, careful to not let it slosh over the rims. Adora’s is whitened slightly, with barely a spoonful of sugar stirred in; Catra’s is blacker than space, but sweetened generously.</p><p>The doors to the bridge part, and there, sitting on top of the control panel and staring out into space with Melog, is Catra. The overhead lights, now drenching the bridge with golden light, illuminate the thin fuzz on her warm, brown skin like an aura. Her tail sways idly in thought. </p><p>No matter how many times Adora sees her like this, it never, ever gets old. Catra was beautiful as a teenager, sitting up on their ledge in the Fright Zone, daydreaming about seeing the world; she’s beautiful now, as a young woman who’s seen far too much. Catra will be beautiful at every stage of her life, and Adora has already decided that she’s going to be there for all of them.</p><p>Catra must have noticed Adora staring, because when she turns, there’s already a quirk in her eyebrow. Damn her. Adora tries to greet her like it’s nothing, but as expected, it doesn’t work. </p><p>“Good morning!” she says with just a little too much cheer. She walks over to the ledge where Catra sits, and motions to her with a mug of coffee just a little too swiftly. A few drops of the steaming beverage splash her hand. “Brought you some—ah, shit shit shit, hot—Brought you some coffee!”</p><p>When Catra giggles, her nose scrunches up and her eyes wrinkle. Adora almost forgets the fresh burns on her hand.</p><p>“Hey, Adora.” Catra takes the mug and sips the coffee gingerly. She hums with satisfaction. “Feels pretty good that the mighty She-Ra knows how I like my coffee.”</p><p>Adora shrugs. “Guess my powers include being a super good girlfriend.”</p><p>Catra’s eyes soften as she strokes a calloused thumb down Adora’s cheek.</p><p>“Wow,” she whispers reverently, “You are so embarrassing.”</p><p>“I’m worth it,” Adora says, letting herself be guided into a slow, soft kiss.</p><p>Their lips brush against each other and part slightly. They both sigh and allow the warmth and flavor of the coffee to mingle on each other’s tongues. Catra begins to purr and Melog jumps down to weave themself between Adora’s legs affectionately. When they separate, Adora’s eyes open sleepily to bask once more in the love written on Catra’s features.</p><p>“Can I sit?” asks Adora. Catra nods, and Adora carefully lifts herself up onto the dashboard, dangling her legs and resting the warm mug cradled in her hands on the tops of her thighs.</p><p>Catra stares up through the viewport to the faintly twinkling stars. They sparkle in the golden pool of her eye like tiny jewels.</p><p>“So,” Adora says casually between sips, “What’s on your agenda today?”</p><p>“Talking strategy with Glimmer, lunch with you, briefing Bow and Entrapta on our plans …” Catra says flatly, still gazing out the window, “I don’t know. Just talking.”</p><p>Adora chuckles. “Just talking, huh? What would the old Catra think?”</p><p>Catra still doesn’t turn to Adora. She takes a slow sip of her coffee. </p><p>“Who cares. She sucked.”</p><p>Adora’s smile falters a little. While it’s true, Catra has changed and it’s all been for the better, it still hurts a little to hear her talk about herself—any version of herself—that way. Despite how much she might have sucked, Adora still loves that version of Catra, just as she loves this one. That can still be a sore spot sometimes. She shouldn’t push it. Despite herself, Adora probes Catra’s feelings a little. </p><p>“Is something on your mind?”</p><p>Catra sighs and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she glances at Adora. She looks mournful. </p><p>“Sort of.”</p><p>Adora nods, wordlessly signaling her to continue.</p><p>“Do you remember when we met?” Catra asks tentatively as she looks down into her mug.</p><p>“Oh, wow.” Adora lets out a low whistle as she searches for the details of the foggy memory. “Yeah. In the orphanage. A couple junior cadets herded in a pack of new recruits—er, orphans, I guess—but one of them was carrying a wooden crate. And when he set it down, I ran over to peek inside and there you were.” Catra smiles weakly at Adora as she finishes her recounting. </p><p>“Yeah. There I was. I wouldn’t leave that box for the rest of the day.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Adora breaths a quiet chuckle, “You were pretty spooked.”</p><p>There’s a pensive silence as Catra turns her gaze back toward the stars. Adora watches something in her eyes change. The nostalgic sadness shifts to something more bitter as she speaks again. </p><p>“My parents put me in that box.”</p><p>Adora’s mind struggles to catch up with what Catra just said. </p><p>“Your … parents?”</p><p>“Yeah, idiot, my parents,” says Catra, a little perturbed. “Someone had to give birth to me, didn’t they?”</p><p>“Yeah, they did. Right. Sorry.” Adora rubs at the hairline on her neck, a nervous habit she picked up from Bow. “I guess I just never thought of it that way, since … You know. No parents. Mysterious origin.”</p><p>“Right,” Catra says, shrinking back into herself. “Anyway … I don’t remember what they said to me, but I remember knowing that I was supposed to stay in the box. I remember knowing that the box was safe. So I guess, when the Horde showed up, that’s how they took me: in a box. The only other thing in there with me was …”</p><p>“Your mask,” Adora finishes the thought. She remembers how Catra had held onto it and hidden it away like it was her most prized possession. It had been her only possession, Adora supposes. It had laid under Catra’s pillow until she was about sixteen, when she decided to start wearing it just to piss off Shadow Weaver.</p><p>Catra nods, her eyes trained back on her coffee.</p><p>“I guess it was sort of the only thing I had left of my family.”</p><p>A weight sinks deep into Adora’s stomach. This whole time they’ve been in space, Adora has been thinking about finding out where she came from. She never stopped to think that Catra might never get the same luxury.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Catra. That must have been awful,” Adora says slowly, plaintively. She places a hand on Catra’s forearm, which Catra then covers with her own and squeezes gently.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter that much,” Catra deflects, shaking her head, “I don’t miss them or anything. I didn’t even know them, really. Sometimes I just kind of wonder …” she glances into Adora’s eyes, then back out to the sky. “What would my life have been like?”</p><p>This is a question Adora devotes hours and hours of painful reflection to. The only advice she’s ever gotten about it is that it doesn’t matter, because life is how it is and there’s no going back to change it. That hardly works for her, so she figures it probably isn’t the best thing to say to Catra either.</p><p>“Well …” Adora says, still searching for the right words, “You wouldn’t have met me.” She smiles at Catra gently, hoping she alone is enough to make this reality better than the hypothetical.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t have,” says Catra, but it’s lacking the finality that Adora was expecting. It leaves the question open.</p><p>She continues, “I don’t know though. Maybe we would’ve found each other some other way.” Her eyes flick back to Adora’s as a small, hopeful smile curls the ends of her lips. “I like to think we would have.”</p><p>While it doesn’t surprise Adora that Catra might long for a normal, happy childhood, it still floods her heart with warmth that she is part of Catra’s definition of a happy life. Just as Catra has a place in all her what-ifs, Adora has her own place in Catra’s. They’re each other’s constant, in every hypothetical past and every possible future.</p><p>Adora thinks in particular of one possible future, one she saw in vivid detail during what could have been the final moments of her life. She thinks of how Catra looked with her hair tied back, the white and gold jacket slung over her shoulder, that silky red shirt—and the golden wing on its lapel. The very same one that’s pinned to Adora’s vest in the bedroom right now.</p><p>Had Glimmer not explained to her that the exchanging of tokens was supposed to be a big special moment, Adora would have given the pin to Catra right after the Heart. She’s never been more sure of anything than she is about being with Catra for the rest of her life. But knowing that it’s supposed to be special adds a whole other layer of stress onto the act.</p><p>She had consulted Spinnerella, who advised her not to worry too much about making it special, to just do it “whenever it feels right.” That wasn’t very helpful. Not only because she doesn’t know how to not worry, but because to Adora, it <em> always </em> feels right. This very moment, sitting alone on the bridge with Catra, sipping coffee and letting herself forget about everything else for a little while, feels <em> exactly </em> right. But when she has these perfect mornings all the time, when every day with Catra feels special in its own way, how is she supposed to know when to make a move?</p><p>Adora snaps back to reality when she sees Catra cocking her head in adoring confusion.</p><p>“What’s going on in there, dummy?”</p><p>“I love you so much,” Adora says, and it feels reciting a universal truth, a law of nature.</p><p>Catra leans forward, and gravity pulls Adora in until their lips are locked together again. </p><p>“I love you too,” Catra whispers into Adora’s mouth.</p><p>The way she loves Catra is inevitable. Adora doesn’t believe in destiny anymore, but being with Catra feels something like destiny. Because now that she has this love, now that she wakes up every morning and is a little more sure of the reason for her existence, how can she ever let it go? How can she <em> not </em> love Catra?</p><p>Later that morning, when Catra has gone off to meet Glimmer, Adora sits down at her desk and starts planning, in intricate detail, how she’s going to give Catra that golden wing.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Glimmer </em>
</h3><p>The rec room is cold and bright in the morning. It’s especially too cold and too bright for Glimmer, who despite having been absolutely exhausted the evening before, is somehow more exhausted after a full night’s sleep.</p><p>It turns out having to defend against a Horde attack, then having to conduct diplomacy with a strange man on a desert planet really spikes Glimmer’s anxiety. Who could have guessed.</p><p>Bow isn’t helping anymore. In fact, his current state is actually adding to Glimmer’s stress. He’s tired, that much was obvious. But last night, he told Glimmer that she, with her flare-ups and breakdowns, is part of the reason why he’s so tired. That put an awful cocktail of guilt and frustration in her gut. Guilt at sapping Bow’s energy, frustration that he can’t provide the comfort she usually expects, then more guilt at expecting so much from him. It sits in her stomach like too much wine the morning after a bad decision.</p><p>Glimmer tries to push the emotional nausea down when Catra saunters in, looking unusually refreshed, carrying a plate of sausages and biscuits that look like they were fresh maybe twenty minutes ago.</p><p>“Hey, Sparkles,” she says in a drawl usually reserved for Adora. “Brought you some grub.”</p><p>Glimmer quirks an eyebrow. “You seem happy.”</p><p>“Eh. I've had worse mornings.” Catra shrugs as she sets the plate down on the fold-out table and takes a seat across from Glimmer. “Adora brought me coffee and made breakfast, and then …” Glimmer pretends not to notice the way Catra starts purring quietly. “Well, it’s not important. I’m here now.”</p><p>“Wow. Spoiled kitty,” Glimmer teases as she delicately takes a sausage link between two fingers.</p><p>“Look who’s talking, Your Luxuriousness.”</p><p>One thing that surprised Glimmer once Catra had become a normal part of her life was how infectious her good moods could be. The way her tail lifts and kinks a little at the end, the way her fangs play at her bottom lip when she smiles slyly—she just has a way of brightening spirits.</p><p>The sausages, even if they are lukewarm, are pretty tasty. And maybe things aren’t so bad with Bow; they’ve been through much worse before.</p><p>Which brings her to the situation at hand. </p><p>“Alright,” Glimmer says through a half-chewed bite, “We should figure out our next move with Adam.” She swallows. “I’m betting he probably knows about Etheria and She-Ra and everything. We’re kind of a big deal.”</p><p>That elicits a snort from Catra. Glimmer smiles and keeps on.</p><p>“So I’m thinking, we can tell him who we are, that we saved the whole damn universe, and then he’ll do whatever we want. We can have him introduce us to the First Ones leaders, and we can go through them to meet some other important space politicians.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Catra says apprehensively, “I think we need to be careful with him and the First Ones. Remember what we learned about them? They’re power-hungry, magic-stealing colonialists. If they find out we’re traveling with She-Ra—”</p><p>“They <em> were </em> power-hungry, magic-stealing colonialists,” Glimmer corrects. “That was a thousand years ago. They were almost wiped out by Horde Prime. I don’t imagine they have any of that ambition left.”</p><p>Catra hums nervously. “But Adam talks about it like it’s still a fresh wound. There’s a lot of resentment there. They might want revenge, even after all this time.”</p><p>Glimmer shrugs. “Can you blame him for being resentful? The Horde destroyed their homeworld. I don’t think anyone would ever forget that pain. It doesn’t mean they’ll try to take over the galaxy again.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Catra says, her ears falling, “I guess you’re right. I’m probably just reacting to this weird feeling I’m getting off of him.”</p><p>Glimmer hums through a bite of a biscuit as Catra looks down at the table, rubbing the back of her neck. Though she may try to hide it, a trace of anxiety finds its way into Catra’s expression.</p><p>“I’m still kind of freaked out by how Adora acted yesterday,” Catra mumbles.</p><p>“Yeah, me too. It’s good to know I’m not the only one.”</p><p>Catra closes her eyes and breaths a deep sigh. There’s been a silent agreement between Glimmer and her, ever since they were trapped together on Horde Prime’s ship, that one woman can always talk to the other about anything, in absolute confidence. This feels to Glimmer like one of those times. </p><p>Glimmer slides out of her chair and sits on the cold, metal floor with her back to Catra. She peeks over her shoulder and motions to Catra with her head to sit down. Catra obliges, finding a seat on the floor cross-legged, leaning her own back against the queen’s.</p><p>“I think she just doesn’t know how to act, you know?” Catra says quietly, her low voice vibrating through Glimmer’s ribcage. “She’s not supposed to have any obligations. She just wants to be out here, for her own reasons. And I think that’s … scary for her.”</p><p>The memory of her teary conversation with Adora yesterday dances back into Glimmer’s mind. </p><p>“I think you’re right. It’s scary not to have orders, so as soon as someone needed help, she made that her mission. And then the sudden pressure just …” Glimmer mimics a tiny explosion with her hands. “Poof.”</p><p>“Classic Adora,” says Catra. “Nobody’s giving her orders, so she’s doing it herself.”</p><p>“Classic.”</p><p>It feels good to be talking like this again. Glimmer allows herself a certain level of honesty with Catra that she doesn’t with anyone else, even Bow. And Bow …</p><p>“Bow and I are kind of having trouble, too,” Glimmer admits.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. He’s been really tired, and it’s a little bit my fault. I just always go straight to him when I’m having problems, and he thinks I want him to … fix them.”</p><p>Catra’s tail wraps itself around Glimmer’s waist gently. “It’s not your fault, princess. That’s just Bow being Bow. He has to learn that not every feeling needs fixing.”</p><p>“Wow, listen to you, Miss Emotional Intelligence. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”</p><p>“An elite team of the best therapists Your Majesty’s money can pay for.”</p><p>Glimmer chuckles. “Remind me why that’s my financial responsibility again?”</p><p>“Hey, I’m your most trusted advisor, remember?” Catra says with a smirk in her voice. “Gotta have a clear head to give good advice. It’s professional development.”</p><p>Glimmer smiles as she leans her head back to rest on Catra’s shoulder. A low purr rumbles through Catra’s body and into Glimmer’s. </p><p>“It does feel like a pretty solid investment.”</p><p>“And as your most trusted advisor,” Catra continues, “I’m advising you to … remember that you can come to me, too. When you’re having problems, I mean. If Bow needs a little space to figure himself out …” She pauses, and Glimmer feels Catra’s hand find her own on the floor, their fingers interlacing. “I’ll always be right here for you to lean on.”</p><p>A strange feeling wells up in Glimmer then, a tingle in her chest that makes its way up to her throat. Tears prick at the edges of her eyes. </p><p>“Thanks, Horde Scum,” she says softly. “You too.” </p><p>Without a thought, Glimmer tilts her head to the side and plants a soft kiss on Catra’s jaw, at the tuft just below her ear. Catra chirps with quiet surprise and stiffens, and for a moment Glimmer worries that it was too much. But then, Catra’s spine relaxes again, and her head lolls to the side. Her cheek brushes against Glimmer’s affectionately. </p><p>“I’ve got you, Sparkles.”</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Hordak </em>
</h3><p>Like he so often finds himself these days, Hordak is alone with his thoughts. As he wrenches another bolt free from a damaged coolant pipe, his mind wanders to the previous day, and what Entrapta had said to him.</p><p>From a purely logical perspective, Entrapta’s guilt about the destruction of the Horde ship makes little sense. It was never her responsibility to protect the clones. She is not the one who gave the order, nor the one who pulled the trigger. Not to mention her analogy between Horde clones—of which there are trillions across the galaxy, all of them genetically identical and very few of them intellectually unique—and the Etherian concept of “family.”</p><p>Family is a word that Hordak had no knowledge of until he fell through that portal and landed on Etheria. As an idea, it held no utility to the Horde’s cause; ideas that Prime did not deem necessary were purged from the collective. </p><p>The first Hordak had heard of it was in a plea for mercy from the Scorpion King of the Fright Zone. It was laughable to him that these lower lifeforms would cling to each other so desperately. He had thought it indicated an innate desire to submit, to be cured of the curse of free will and to serve the collective. Misled pawns begging to be commanded.</p><p>But after losing the war and seeing how the Etherians elated at being reunited with their families—mourned the ones they had lost, started new ones—it became much clearer to Hordak what family was. Now, he sees it for what it is: belonging. Happiness. Other things which he has been categorically denied.</p><p>No, the clones are not Hordak’s family. They never were, and they never will be. They are just context, a footnote that explains where he came from. Why Entrapta sees them as anything else is a mystery to him.</p><p>If there is anyone who Hordak might reasonably claim as family, it is Entrapta herself, and nobody else. He would prefer to keep it that way.</p><p>The hefty bolt falls behind the pipe with a metallic clang. Hordak carefully climbs over and crouches down to retrieve it, when he hears voices coming down the hall towards the shaft to the engineering deck. One of them he gratefully identifies as Entrapta. Another one, deeper and more resonant, sounds like that arrogant boy who carries the archaic projectile weapon. And then there is a third voice that is entirely new. Why is there a new voice? What riff-raff have those fools picked up?</p><p>Hordak stays crouched behind the duct as Entrapta slides down the ladder. </p><p>“We’re hoping that the precision field generators that allow you to target and guide the high-intensity space-time distortions can be adapted to run with our power systems, since it would be a real hassle to reconfigure all of <em> Darla’s </em> auxiliary systems,” she explains as she waits for the other two to follow her.</p><p>“I’ll translate,” Bow says as he carefully steps down the rungs of the ladder. “Basically, we’re going to make your portal drive work with our ship, since it would be easier than making our ship work with your portal drive.”</p><p>As Bow finishes speaking, he glances down from the ladder and toward the wall where Hordak is crouched behind a pipe. His eyes go wide with panic as they meet Hordak’s from across the room.</p><p>“Uh, actually,” Bow stammers, “Adam, maybe you shouldn’t come down here, it’s kind of … dangerous?”</p><p>“Hey, that’s not true!” says Entrapta indignantly. “I happen to make shop safety a top priority. Well, technically it’s priority number fourteen, but still.”</p><p>That’s when Hordak sees who the third voice belongs to. A human with messy blond hair slides confidently down the ladder and lands with a flourish. </p><p>“Nonsense, Bow! I’m a perfectly capable engineer, I’m sure I can handle myself—” The young man—Adam—stops dead and clenches his fists when he sees Hordak.</p><p>“What are you doing on this ship, beast?” Adam growls, twisting his features into as intimidating a mask as he can manage.</p><p>Another feisty human who wants Hordak dead. How original.</p><p>“I could ask the same of you, boy. There are quite enough of you on board already,” Hordak shoots back as he stands to his full, towering height.</p><p>Adam grunts as he attempts to lunge towards Hordak, only to have his arms restrained by Bow’s firm grip. </p><p>“You monster!” Adam barks, “I should kill you where you stand!”</p><p>“No!” As Entrapta catches up with the interaction taking place, she throws herself between Adam and Hordak, taking a protective stance. “He’s not a monster, he’s a person! He didn’t do anything to you!”</p><p>While she does not technically know this for a fact—neither does Hordak—he appreciates the sentiment. But this fool doesn’t scare Hordak more than any other puny creature.</p><p>“Adam, I promise, we’ll explain everything later,” Bow bargains as he steps in front of Adam, “This whole situation is way more complicated—”</p><p>“The Horde destroyed my homeworld. He and his kind burned Eternia and plunged the galaxy into darkness, there is nothing complicated about that!”</p><p>Hordak can’t help but chuckle to himself. Of course, this child is Eternian. Who else could be so pompous and self-important? He needs to be reminded of his place. </p><p>“We did the galaxy a great service by ridding it of your sorry excuse for an empire,” Hordak says tauntingly.</p><p>That seems to set him off. Adam nearly lets out a battle cry before Bow sets two steadying hands on his shoulders. </p><p>“Okay, why don’t we all take a nice breather in the rec room, huh?” Bow says, pushing Adam back towards the ladder. “Entrapta, can you just pull up some schematics so we can show him around without any uh … hazards?”</p><p>Entrapta nods, then flits over to her work table on her hair extensions. Adam reluctantly turns around, keeping his narrowed eyes trained on Hordak until he begins climbing back up to the corridor above. Once Adam is on his way, Bow breathes a sigh of relief at having temporarily defused the situation. </p><p>Bow positions himself at the foot of the ladder and pauses, taking a moment to glower at Hordak. Typical rebel. If there were any justice in the universe, if Bow and his merry band knew anything about what actually happened, it would be Adam locked away in the underbelly of this ship.</p><p>Bow ascends the access shaft, followed by Entrapta, who regards Hordak with a concerned stare before disappearing into the upper deck.</p><p>If there were any justice in the universe—but there isn’t any. Because Hordak is here, wasting away rather than enjoying his well-earned freedom, and the rebels are making friends with an Eternian. Their hypocrisy would be humorous to him if they weren’t the ones at the top of the new order.</p><p>Hordak returns to busying himself with damaged coolant ducts, hoping to numb his mind until he forgets his circumstances. It works for a little while. Time slips away with each titanium alloy bolt dropping to the floor. Before he knows it, Hordak is lifting the section of pipe away with his mechanically assisted arms and walking it over to the welding station. He sets it down on the table recessed into the wall and mindlessly slips a visor over his face. Then, just as Hordak is about to flip the arc welder on and lose himself in the sparks, another voice rings out from above.</p><p>This one, he knows all too well. It’s the one person he doesn’t want to see right now, the one person who reminds him of all that he can never have.</p><p>“Entrapta,” Catra calls as she deftly steps down the ladder, tail swishing, “Are you done with Bow yet? I need him for a—oh.”</p><p>Catra’s ears fall and her tail stills itself as she turns to see who is on the engineering deck. </p><p>“Hello, Hordak,” she grumbles through gritted teeth.</p><p>Normally, Hordak would simply pretend this wasn’t happening, slam down his visor and bury himself in work. But unfortunately for Catra, his patience for this has run dry.</p><p>“Come to gloat, Force Captain?” he prods. He wants her to feel every bit of the guilt she deserves for holding herself above him. Catra slams her eyes shut. </p><p>“Never mind. I’m just looking for someone.” She steadies herself with a hand on the ladder and turns around, preparing to escape this inevitable confrontation. That was always her specialty: cowardice. But she’s not getting away this time. </p><p>“Doesn’t it trouble you, Catra,” he spits her name with the venom he only reserves for the most wretched of creatures, “that I am held prisoner while you, my once-great commander, walk free and enjoy the good graces of the queen?”</p><p>Catra opens a fist at her side and unsheaths her claws. She glares over her shoulder, a slitted blue eye staring daggers back at Hordak. </p><p>“Careful, old man. You remember how this ends for you,” she growls.</p><p>Hordak’s heart hammers in his chest at Catra’s threat. She may be the only one on this ship who he actually does have reason to be afraid of. But she turns away again, her hand relaxing and her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. After a moment, she speaks, and Hordak is taken aback with just how level she sounds.</p><p>“To answer your question, Hordak, no, it doesn’t trouble me. Because despite you and Shadow Weaver’s best efforts, I actually managed to become a better person. I learned to apologize and fix my mistakes. I learned compassion.” Slowly, she faces Hordak again with restrained fury in her eyes belying her calm tone. “All you do is serve your sentence and feel sorry for yourself. And don’t try to act like I’m just as bad as you, because I’m not. I never was. I was your right hand for what, two years? You waged your war for <em> forty </em> years.”</p><p>The anger starts to seep through her thin walls of moral superiority. She would never admit it, but Hordak can tell he has her cornered. He sees a weakness and exploits it.</p><p>“We both know you’re a very effective strategist, Catra,” Hordak snarls, “sometimes too effective. You did just as much damage in your years as I did in my decades, if not more.”</p><p>This has the desired effect. Catra squeezes her eyes shut, and Hordak thinks he can hear the metal bars of the access ladder fracturing underneath her grip. A tear forms in her creased eye and she swiftly wipes it away. When Catra opens them again, her gaze is fixed firmly on the floor. Her voice is almost whisper-quiet, but not with bubbling rage. With sadness.</p><p>“You know, I can still remember them sometimes. My parents. My village. Nothing concrete, just little bits here and there.” She spares Hordak a quick glance, then returns to looking at the floor. “You destroyed it all. That’s always been the Horde’s strategy, hasn’t it? Scorched earth, salting the soil? That’s what you did to me, too. You salted my soil. You ruined any chance I had at a happy life.” She chuckles darkly, without letting herself smile. “And you had no idea who I even was. You must have done that thousands of times, killed thousands of families and stolen their children—don’t think I don’t know where my squadmates came from. </p><p>“This is what makes us different, Hordak. I knew what that felt like, deep down, to be torn away from the place and the people you’re supposed to be with. I knew it was wrong the entire time. I still did it, but only because I wanted people to hurt as much as I was hurting. I thought it would make me feel better, but instead the guilt and the loneliness almost killed me. So I changed.”</p><p>Before Hordak can react, Catra is striding over to him, having suddenly found her confidence—her anger—once again. Even though Hordak is considerably taller than her, she still seems to tower over him. Her blue and gold eyes shine with determination.</p><p>“But to you,” she hisses, “that was just the cost of doing business. A number on a graph. Not people, not families. Just statistics.”</p><p>Hordak scowls back down at her, but when she walks away, it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels hollow. Catra hooks a bare foot onto a rung of the ladder and prepares to launch herself up. A beat of stillness, then she glances over her shoulder.</p><p>“You ever wonder what happened to Entrapta’s family?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Patching Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora gets a history lesson. Bow and Glimmer fix some shield generator conduits. Catra takes a nap.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>The few actual historical documents that Adora managed to squirrel away from the Library before she left lie splayed out on her desk, her ancient star charts pushed unceremoniously to the side. She’s skimmed most of the books and scrolls at this point—they’re dull, to say the least. Records of imports and exports, decrees by colonial governors, results of magical experiments, regular communiqués from Squadron Grayskull to their commanders on Eternia—those, she saved quite a few of. As it turns out, being appointed protectors of a First Ones colony involved a lot more paperwork and bureaucracy than Adora had imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of it contains a shred of information as to what was happening in the rest of the galaxy before the planet was swallowed by Despondos. Records of the Heart of Etheria project—beyond the recordings left by Mara and her fellow rebels—have never been found, nor any indication of what led the First Ones to turn it into a weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, Adora is scouring the ancient tomes once again, looking for some kind of clue. She’s still not sure what she’s looking for exactly, but there has to be something, something that will lead her to the hidden faction of First Ones that produced the peculiar boy they’ve picked up—and herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The harsh daytime lights in the bedroom are switched off and the viewports shuttered, leaving only the small lamp on the desk casting the books in stark contrast to the room’s dark corners. Adora’s eyes scan a page once, twice, three times to be sure, for any mention of the Horde, the war, or “the House of Randor” (whatever that means). The glyphs run together in a slurry of geometric shapes that whisper into her brainstem, flooding her mind with information, but once again she finds nothing of interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustration bubbles into her throat. A grunt escapes as she slams the book closed, perhaps a little too hard for the thousand-plus-year-old binding, but Lance and George aren’t here to scold her about it. Nobody is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In moments like this, Adora can’t help but feel lonely. This work—and it is work, even if it’s voluntary—is her burden alone to bear. None of her friends, not even Catra really, can understand what it’s like to have to dig through the archives of a dead civilization just to learn about herself. Who Adora is, where she came from—these are questions better answered by scientists and researchers than by friends and family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a moment to close her eyes and breathe, Adora pushes back against the hopelessness. She focuses on the goal, envisions the way forward. She still has Adam, and although she can’t be sure he really knows anything that can help, she can at least try. Adora stands up, straightening her posture as her resolve hardens. She takes a quick peek in the mirror, smoothes her hair back, and sets off down the narrow hallway to the extra bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora almost doesn’t think to knock, being so used to the openness she and her friends share, but she stops herself from entering unannounced. That probably wouldn’t be in line with diplomatic decorum, she figures. She puffs up her chest, folds one arm behind her back and raps on the metal door politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Adam’s voice says after a moment, muffled behind the thick alloy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides open with a whisper. Adora clears her throat and puts on her best dignitary voice, attempting both She-Ra’s chest resonance and Queen Angella’s delicate-but-firm composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Adam,” she tries with the affectation, “I’ve, uh, come to ask you a few questions about—” Her voice strains and she coughs, forced to continue in her normal, everyday Adora tone. “I wanted to ask you about the war with the Horde. Our planet wasn’t super involved until the very end, so there are some … gaps in our history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam wears the only clothes he has, the ones he wore beneath his space suit: a short-sleeved, pale pink tunic layered on top of a thermal undershirt and thick, sturdy black pants. He sits on a cot against the wall of the bare room, his hands folded politely in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll gladly answer your questions, Adora. We haven’t really had a chance to speak yet. But first, I’d like to ask you something.” His voice drops as he stands and approaches Adora. His eyes narrow in a scowl. “When were you planning on telling me that you’re harboring a Horde clone on this ship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s heart drops below her stomach. Hordak is dead last on the list of things she wants to talk to Adam about. She tries to keep the anxiety under control, but her voice still trembles when she speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, geez. Alright, listen,” she says as she raises her hands in front of her in surrender, “It’s way more complicated than it seems. That’s Hordak, and he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your friends keep using that word, ‘complicated.’ I don’t think it means what you think it means. What’s complicated about the Horde? About evil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora groans exasperatedly and drags a hand down her face. She lets frustration get the better of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Horde raised me and Catra, and we’re not evil! Well, not—Yeah! Not evil!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to shock Adam out of his anger momentarily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You … What?” he whispers, eyes wide. “The Horde … raised you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they, you know … took us in as children and trained us to follow orders and fight mindlessly. But it’s okay, we’re good now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam shakes his head in disbelief. “Adora, the Horde took you from your family as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span> and forced you to be a soldier. Conscripting helpless children is unheard of, even from the Horde. And you’re still insisting that that creature isn’t pure evil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Adora says with a sigh, “technically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t … Okay, yeah. That was pretty evil of him. And I haven’t forgiven him for that, don’t get me wrong. But there’s a lot more going on there, and I promise you I will explain it all later. The gist of it is that Hordak was the only clone on Etheria, so he used terror and kidnapping to build a giant army and conquer it for the Horde, but then Horde Prime found us and sort of forced him into submission, but then he betrayed Horde Prime and …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam stares at Adora, slack-jawed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yes, I know. Evil. Got it. The point is, Hordak was the only clone on our planet because we were out of touch with the rest of the galaxy for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> long time. And I’m just trying to figure out what happened during that time. So can you please answer my questions now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam swallows thickly and blinks a few times, presumably processing everything he’s just heard. Adora wasn’t actually supposed to tell him about all of that stuff, but she had to explain the Hordak situation somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I …” Adam begins softly, “I guess I can, yeah.” He retreats back to his cot, motioning for Adora to follow him inside. She does, and finds a seat next to him on the mattress. “What is it you want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a big question. I guess … Everything, sort of. How did the Horde manage to conquer the whole galaxy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam grimaces with the pain of an old scar. He casts his gaze down at the floor and breathes a heavy breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That’s a long and painful history. As I said before when you rescued me, Eternia was the bastion of peace and progress across the stars. Ours was the first truly galactic civilization. There were upwards of a hundred star systems under our protection, all trading freely and enjoying unprecedented prosperity thanks to the technological advancements we brought them. Until …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until the Horde arrived,” Adora finishes, contempt growing in her gut. Adam nods solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They came from beyond the edge of the galaxy and quickly spread to every inhabited world like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>virus.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The word strikes a bolt of ice into Adora’s chest and she clutches at her shirt, feeling the faint ridges of the Failsafe scar on her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horde Prime claimed to be the only way to achieve true peace and order in the galaxy. Eternia went to war to defend the liberty of its constituent systems. But the Horde was ruthless. They had no qualms about razing entire planets just to enforce their will. The only worlds they couldn’t conquer were planets where Eternia’s influence hadn’t fully spread, whose magic still ran wild.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora recalls Krytis, the secret of Prime’s weakness; Melog, the lone survivor of his attempts to conceal it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to legend, there was one world with magic so potent it didn’t even need a sun.” This must be Etheria, Adora realizes. “There was a plan to unleash that magic against the Horde, finally expel them from the universe. But before they could finish building the weapon, the Horde destroyed the planet without a trace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth pounds in Adora’s chest, She-Ra’s spirit surging at the suggestion of Etheria’s destruction. She doesn’t have time to process the version of the story Adam is telling her before he continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without that power, all hope of defeating the Horde was lost. They were too numerous, too single-minded. Galactic civilization fractured, each system left to fend for itself, including Eternia. When our day of reckoning came, my people stood no chance. Only a small group of leaders and protectors managed to escape Prime’s desolation. They fled to a small settlement on the Outer Rim called Empyria. Everyone who lives there today, myself included, are direct descendents of the few Eternians tasked with keeping our civilization alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora gulps. If she’s a First One, then Empyria must be where she was born—her home planet. She’s desperate, gasping for more information like it’s the last breath of blessed air in the vacuum of space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happened since then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Adam begins again, his pale blue eyes piercing Adora’s, “Countless systems have been living under the tyranny of the Galactic Horde. If Prime didn’t destroy them completely, he severed their magical connections, enslaved their populations, and extracted their resources until there was almost nothing left. Whole planets were turned into factories for his ships and machines, every person a cog in his gears. It was only recently that the Horde began to collapse and massive revolts sprung up against their rule. Now, thankfully, they’re disorganized and have been pushed out of the few remaining inhabited worlds. But they still patrol the dead regions, destroying any who dare to venture beyond their own systems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places a firm hand on Adora’s shoulder. “That’s what almost happened to me. If it weren’t for your rescue, Adora, I would have been just another casualty of the Horde. You have my gratitude, and Eternia’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s pulse is pounding, her thoughts racing as Adam finishes his story. Why does he know about the Heart, but not about its true nature? Why does he think the Horde destroyed Etheria, and how does he not know about Mara? About She-Ra? The questions fill her mind and threaten to spill over, but she holds her tongue. They’ll have to wait; Adora needs to find a way out of this conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re, uh,” Adora stutters nervously, rising to her feet, “You’re welcome. Uh, for rescuing you, I mean. And thanks for telling me all of that.” She chuckles awkwardly as she backs toward the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I have to go, uh, look at… some… books?” The door slides open behind Adora and her heel crosses the threshold into the hallway. “So, uh, bye!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s face twists with confusion, but before he can say anything, the door shuts and Adora is marching back down the corridor to her bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em>
    <span>Bow</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>After his first restful sleep in what feels like forever, Bow is actually happy to be working. He’s excited, even, as he pries open another access panel in the cramped service shaft to begin disassembling his second shield generator conduit of the day. There are five conduits in this generator that need new fuses, three more in the aft generator, and all seven in the forward port-side generator. It’s a full afternoon’s worth of simple tasks with a quantifiable goal; Bow can hardly think of anything more relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can probably chalk up his good mood to the fact that he did—finally, after some words of encouragement from Catra—talk to Glimmer about how he was feeling last night. He explained his exhaustion, how he was feeling drained from always trying to help Glimmer’s moods. Thankfully, she actually took it pretty well. She promised to pay more attention to how he’s feeling, to find other avenues of support when she needs it and he can’t give it. Who would have guessed a few years ago that Catra could give such good advice?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow hums to himself as he methodically unscrews each component from its mounting. He drops the bolts into a bowl next to him on the floor, silently thanking Entrapta for standardizing the head diameters across the ship. He reaches the fusebox buried beneath and prepares to wrench it free, when he’s interrupted by a voice from the hallway outside the access shaft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bow,” Glimmer calls, “There you are. Do you have anything I can help with? I need something to do that isn’t … talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey, Glimmer! I think you can probably help with this.” Bow smiles and waves his girlfriend into the small corridor. “If you wanna slide in here next to me and start taking apart some conduits, we could make this go a lot faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, yeah. Cool,” Glimmer mutters as she awkwardly side-steps through the service door. She seems agitated, though Bow can’t be sure why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Glimmer wiggles past Bow and sits on the floor beside him, her essence fills the corridor. Her fruity scents, the little grunts she lets out, the way the light reflects off of her modestly sparkling purple jumpsuit. She has a gravity about her that pulls in attention. Bow can’t resist it—he never could. He leans over and plants a kiss squarely on Glimmer’s soft cheek. She floods his senses in the best way, his lips tingling with her energy as he pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer hums sweetly at the kiss, and shoots back a shy smile. But her face falls again. Something is obviously on her mind, and even though Bow told her he can’t always be the one she leans on, he’s feeling pretty sturdy right now. Still, he decides not to push it, wanting to see if she brings it up on her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” says Bow, passing Glimmer the extra hex-driver from his toolbox and showing her where to start. “Just take this panel off and start unscrewing all the bits underneath. You can put the screws in this bowl. Then I’ll follow you with the new fuses and put it all back together. Sound good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods and grunts a wordless affirmative. They get to work silently at first, Glimmer gingerly removing components from her conduit and Bow wrestling a heavy-duty fuse from its casing. Bow tries to keep his focus, but it keeps straying to his partner’s frustrated sighs. He can’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Bow asks, unsure of the reaction he’ll get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Glimmer says curtly, without turning to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, that’s what it’s going to be: denial. Sensitive to Glimmer’s privacy, Bow decides not to challenge her on it. Not yet, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you?” Glimmer deflects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, actually,” Bow says in a measured, even tone. “Almost had to break up a fight between Adam and Hordak earlier, which was a little scary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yikes. We probably should’ve seen that one coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, at least we’ll be able to keep a close eye on them. I’m not too worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer scoots to her left without a word or even a look, indicating she’s done disassembling the conduit. She starts on the next one with a deep breath, as if to calm herself. Bow pops the cover back onto the first conduit with a huff and resigns himself to the tooth-pulling of getting Glimmer to talk about her feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re doing okay? You seem stressed,” Bow says, trying his best not to sound accusatory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Bow!” Glimmer snaps back, obviously not fine. “It’s nothing. You’re busy, don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetheart, you know I can’t just not worry about it. Come on,” says Bow as he turns to his girlfriend and lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer’s hand reaches up and meets Bow’s, gently stroking the thin skin over his knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, but …” she murmurs, keeping her gaze averted, “It’s not always something you can fix, Bow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow’s heart sinks, his fingers going slightly cold against Glimmer’s shoulder. Once again, he’s just not enough for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I’m sorry, Glim. I wish I knew what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, that’s exactly it, though. This is what’s stressing me out, Bow.” Glimmer’s voice firms up, her grasp on Bow’s hand tensing, her luminous eyes meeting his. “I don’t know what I’m doing to make you feel like you have to solve all my problems. I know you love me, and I love you too. But sometimes you don’t have the answers and I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to be okay with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow searches Glimmer’s eyes for anger, or at least something other than what he’s hearing from her words, but he doesn’t find it. He finds only love—honest, true, unyielding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bow says after a moment, and he tries to mean it. Glimmer smiles quietly at him. He pushes his cheeks up into what should be a smile, but his mind is elsewhere already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get back to work in silence, trading short glances and shorter words every so often when the job requires it. Suddenly, Bow wishes the task were more complicated. The straightforwardness allows his thoughts too much room to wander to the questions he’s been left with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow replays the conversation again and again, interrogating it, looking for answers. Is Glimmer pushing him away? Is he pushing </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> away? Does she not trust him? Bow was already doubting his own ability to take care of her, but now apparently Glimmer has her misgivings about him, too. He starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have been honest with how he felt, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Adora’s voice is not having its usual calming effect right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sitting at the desk with a bunch of old books open in front of her, going on and on about Eternia and the Horde and this ancient war of theirs, which normally Catra would enjoy. Not that she has a particular interest in history, but just because it’s fun to watch Adora get herself all worked up over something she’s interested in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But today, through no fault of her own, Adora is actually getting on Catra’s nerves a little. Catra presses her face into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut. Her tail flicks spastically against the mattress. She knows she’s going to have to say something eventually, or else she might end up doing something she regrets. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so it’s entirely possible that the Heart of Etheria project was completely unknown to the rest of Eternian civilization, and could have even been </span>
  <em>
    <span>against the will</span>
  </em>
  <span> of their leaders, if—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra readies herself for the tremendous effort of politely asking her girlfriend to shut up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Adora?” she interjects from behind her pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora stops immediately upon hearing her name, her attention turning seamlessly toward Catra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is super interesting, bu t…” Catra flips over to face Adora, who is straddling the back of her desk chair and staring at Catra, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light in Adora’s eyes fades as her face falls. Her voice shrinks. “Oh, sure. Sorry. I’ll—I’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra growls in frustration as she shuts her eyes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, that’s not—I’m glad you’re doing this, and it’s really cool,” she says genuinely, kicking her usual sarcasm out of the room, “I’m just kind of having a hard time right now. I’m like … freaking out a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Catra opens her eyes, Adora is kneeling beside the bed, looking at her like she’s just revealed she has a life-threatening illness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” asks Adora. There’s a twinge of panic in her voice, but more than that, a heart-wrenching concern that just about melts Catra. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it, but how could she resist Adora’s perpetually open heart?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Catra whispers as she glances down to study the bedsheets, “something happened. I sort of … chewed out Hordak. He provoked me and I—I took the bait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kind of said a lot,” Catra begins. Adora holds her hand as she recounts the conversation as close as she can: the threat of violence, the attack on Hordak’s pride, the painful memories. The manipulative strike at the one vulnerable spot in Hordak’s cold, stony heart—the one person she knows he would do anything to protect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s fingers flex around Catra’s palm as she finishes speaking. The silence hangs in the small space between them, but Adora breaks it, bringing Catra back out of her thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra,” Adora says quietly but firmly, “Everything you said to him was true. That’s not manipulation, that’s just telling him what he needs to hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point.” Catra rolls onto her back, staring up at the flat, gray ceiling decorated with strings of lights and baubles to make it feel like home. “The point is that … I’m not supposed to be like that anymore. Angry and vengeful. I’m supposed to be better, but he just brings out this old side of me and it makes me act like—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra stops the old witch’s name on her tongue. With all this time spent reflecting on memories, she’s too close. Catra can’t give her power by speaking her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It makes me act like </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Adora’s brow creases tells Catra that she understands. Her voice deepens with determination, love, protection—all the things Catra has always relied on her for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to me, Catra. Look at me.” Catra obeys, her eyes turning to find a pair of almost-glowing blues staring back. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like her. You never have been, and you never will be, understand? You’re compassionate and loving and—and all the things she never was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora doesn’t let Catra answer before she climbs onto the bed and surrounds Catra in her warmth. It’s not just Adora either, though it’s still her body—it’s She-Ra, too. Catra would recognize that peculiar incandescence anywhere, the way it thickens the air and permeates everything. Catra lets herself nuzzle against Adora’s chest and curl up tight in her arms. No matter where they are, this is always the safest place in the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Adora,” Catra chokes out from behind a growing lump in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora responds with a tender kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. Her lips stay pressed there, breaths warm and steady. And then, Adora starts to hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a coincidence at first how closely Adora’s unsteady tune follows the contour of Catra’s childhood melody. But as the song continues, Catra realizes it’s the very same one, the one she’s always known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What song is that?” Catra asks, hushed, trying to hide her amazement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s chest quakes with a giggle. “It’s just that little lullaby you used to always sing when we were cadets, remember? When you couldn’t sleep? I thought you made it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra lifts her head, surprised and a little embarrassed, to look Adora in the eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard that? I was so quiet …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra, of course I heard it,” Adora says, brushing the side of Catra’s face with a warm hand. “It’s one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. How could I ignore that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blush warms Catra’s cheeks and she buries herself in Adora’s chest again. She lets herself purr loudly and openly, her tail wrapping itself around Adora’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a miracle, Catra thinks, that she and Adora turned out the way they did. The way Shadow Weaver raised them—seeing everything in terms of strength and weakness, duty and failure, winning and losing—should have crushed any hope they ever had of being happy. Being together. But somehow, they still found each other again. Now matter what they’ve been through, no matter how colossally bad their relationship used to be, they’re still each other’s comfort and safety. They’re still family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra finds herself humming along with Adora as she gently drifts into her afternoon nap.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Rated E for Exposition and Emotions!</p><p>Listen I knowwww y'all are itching for some action and so am I. This chapter just needed to happen so I could set some more stuff up before shit starts Happening. But now that that's out of the way, we're going to Eternia next chapter!</p><p>Also, I totally unintentionally snuck a reference to "What's Up" by 4 Non-Blondes in there. Props if you can find it. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32FB-gYr49Y">And if you're wondering why that's relevant...</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Gray Planet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Entrapta makes a log entry. Adora has PTSD. She-Ra steals Catra's thunder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em> Entrapta </em>
</h3><p>“Starship <em> Darla, </em>technical log, day 115, 0900 hours. Today is the day! We’re running final checks on the new portal drive that we adapted from Adam’s ship, and later we set off on our first full-scale test!” </p><p>Entrapta beams at her latest work, the culmination of everything she has been studying for almost a decade now. Gone is the giant globe that once housed the warp reactor, and in its place is an even more gargantuan half-cylinder of dark gray metal, stretching to the back wall and into the ship’s hull. Countless wires and ducts coming from all angles connect the retrofitted engine to the ship’s existing systems. It reminds Entrapta of a spider’s web, and at its center, the mother of all arachnids.</p><p>“It’s … beautiful,” she whispers into her recorder. “This is the ultimate expression of techno-magical engineering. A combination of the ancient First Ones tech left on Etheria, the genius of my and Hordak’s previous work with portals, and this highly advanced Eternian technology, all of it unified by the power of Arcanolite crystals. It’s pure poetry.”</p><p>Her enthusiasm isn’t technical information, Entrapta realizes, but she’s recording it anyway. It helps to have a record of her proudest moments; it becomes useful when she recalls her more shameful ones.</p><p>Entrapta walks the length of the portal drive back to the wall, stroking a gloved hand along its surface as she records.</p><p>“Hordak’s help with tweaking the generator was invaluable, as always. It’s essentially several of our old portal machines connected in sequence, so his familiarity with the formulae allowed us to really fine-tune it. Bow helped as well with converting the generator to run on our power systems. And Adam …”</p><p>She stops at the back wall and chances a quick look at Hordak, who is sitting at his computer terminal double-checking his work, before continuing in a more hushed tone.</p><p>“Adam couldn’t help much, beyond advising us on the original specifications of the machine. Bow said it would be best if we kept him away from Hordak. That made sense to me, since it was clear they didn’t like each other, but … I don’t really understand the socio-political tension between them, especially on Adam’s part. I mean, he certainly wasn’t alive all those centuries ago, and probably neither was Hordak. It’s fascinating to study as a social dynamic, but it’s also … unpleasant to experience firsthand.”</p><p>In a twist of hair extensions, Entrapta swivels back around and resumes her normal log entry.</p><p>“Anyway, the trip to Eternia should be a perfect maiden voyage for the portal drive. We haven’t been able to actually test it since we’ve been grounded, but the coordinates Adam gave us aren’t too far astronomically speaking, so it should just be one quick jump and then another landing to fix any problems that arise.”</p><p>She tucks the recorder into the pocket of her coveralls and wanders over to Hordak’s computer terminal, lifting herself to sit cross-legged on her hair extensions.</p><p>“Eternia … Can you imagine, Hordak?” she ponders as if continuing her log entry. “The center of the First Ones’ empire, the origin of all magical technology, preserved for centuries on a dead planet! It’s the motherlode! Just think of all the data we’ll be able to gather from just one archaeological site …”</p><p>Hordak blinks a few times and stares rigidly at his computer terminal, pausing only briefly to consider Entrapta’s musings. He grunts an affirmative, then the keys start clicking again as he continues working.</p><p>“Hordak?”</p><p>This sort of standoffishness is uncommon when it’s just the two of them. Did Entrapta say something wrong? Is Hordak for some reason upset by the idea of going to Eternia?</p><p>He pauses again and turns to Entrapta with a questioning hum.</p><p>“Oh. Yes, I suppose it will be … interesting.” His tone is meager, and he avoids eye contact as he quickly returns to his work. This suggests to Entrapta that her first two anxious hypotheses were incorrect, and that something else is bothering him. But she doesn’t have enough information to form a new theory yet. </p><p>Instead, she slinks away on her hair extensions toward the access shaft, heading to her room to continue reflecting. She ascends the shaft with ease and fishes the recorder back out of her pocket.</p><p>“Day 115, addendum. Hordak’s behavior has been highly abnormal recently. I started noticing changes the day after we took Adam aboard, but I’m not sure it’s related.” Leaning against the door to her bedroom, Entrapta scratches her chin in thought. “He’s not angry, the way he was when he met Adam, but he seems … scared, almost. His body language when we interact suggests withdrawal, and if I had to make an educated guess, it could be stemming from guilt. Which I suppose could be an improvement, if he’s showing signs of remorse for what he did on Etheria, but I’m not sure that’s it. It feels like it might have something to do with—”</p><p>“Entrapta?”</p><p>Catra’s sudden appearance startles her somewhat, but Entrapta recognizes a valuable resource when she sees one. </p><p>“Ah, Catra! Good, you may be able to help with this.”</p><p>“Me?” Catra’s face scrunches with confusion. “I’m not really much of an engineer.”</p><p>“No, no, this isn’t about the ship, it’s about feelings,” Entrapta corrects before moving on with her inquiry. “You did a lot of terrible things that you feel very bad about, right? How does that typically impact your interpersonal relationships?” She shoves the recorder in Catra’s face and awaits her response.</p><p>All Entrapta receives is stunned silence as Catra’s jaw falls open. Perhaps she didn’t explain well enough.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, this is about Hordak. He’s been acting strangely recently and my best theory is that it’s because he’s feeling guilty about something. Would you be able to provide any insight on that?” she asks, slightly gentler this time.</p><p>Entrapta notes the way Catra’s ears fold backwards, her tail twitches, and her pupils narrow to thin slits.</p><p>“Oh, uh,” Catra sputters, “Not—not really. I guess maybe—I don’t know.”</p><p>Catra pivots on her heel to escape down the hallway toward her own room, but she stills herself before making a run for it. Turning her golden eye toward Entrapta, she speaks softly and with purpose.</p><p>“Maybe Hordak is learning that what he did was wrong, and why. Once he understands that, he can start to make things right. It just … might not be easy for him.” Catra shuts her eyes. “Or for you. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Before Entrapta can ask her to elaborate, Catra has already slipped down the corridor and into her quarters.</p><p>Now Entrapta is left with a whole new mystery: why did Catra react like that to the suggestion that Hordak might be feeling guilty? Shouldn’t she be glad, knowing that it’s the first step on a journey to becoming a better person?</p><p>As Entrapta backs up through the door and finds a seat on her bed among the piles of clothes, she begins to put the pieces together. Hordak’s behavior suggests guilt, but so does Catra’s. What could Catra have done that would make both her and Hordak feel guilty? It’s a fascinating bit of social tension, begging for further examination. But a feeling deep in Entrapta’s gut suggests she might not like what she finds.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Adora </em>
</h3><p>This is it. Adora has to stay focused, or it could all come crumbling down. One more deep breath, then she opens her eyes and … </p><p>“Entrapta,” she says into the intercom, “Can I have a go/no-go for the portal drive?”</p><p><em> Perfect. </em>Her voice didn’t shake at all, no false starts or stuttering. Adora smiles to herself and sits a little straighter, knowing that her super-competent space captain persona is holding steady. All she has to do is keep this up until they’ve touched down on Eternia.</p><p>The intercom beeps and Entrapta responds, <em> “Well, technically I can’t say for certain either way, since we haven’t done any full-scale tests. Simulations can only get you so far. So it’s really more of a might-go, might-implode-into-a-singularity sort of situation, but that’s what makes it fun!” </em></p><p>“Uh,” Adora’s affectation falters in the face of uncertainty, “Is that—do you have, like, a probability or something?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes! I’ve calculated an 89.2% chance of success. Very promising, if you ask me.” </em>
</p><p>“Okay,” Adora sighs with relief before remembering she’s supposed to be displaying total confidence. She clears her throat and squares her shoulders, looking ahead to the helm where Bow sits.</p><p>“Bow, is our course laid in with the coordinates Adam gave you?”</p><p>Bow swivels around to look at Adora questioningly. He knows she’s putting on an act, no doubt, but this isn’t about him. She meets his gaze steadily, doing her best to dispel his hesitation. After a moment that feels too long, he responds, “Yep. Next stop, Eternia.”</p><p>“Good.” Adora nods authoritatively and Bow turns back to his controls. “Glimmer, Catra, all set?”</p><p>“Comms and sensors are online,” Glimmer calls over her shoulder.</p><p>Adora glances to Catra at the defense station, and is surprised to find her with one knee hugged to her chest, staring into space. </p><p><em> “Catra,” </em>Adora whisper-yells. Catra’s ear perks toward the sound, followed by her eyes as she’s pulled away from her thoughts.</p><p>“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Catra says dismissively.</p><p>Something is clearly bugging Catra, but it’s not the ship. Adora will have to inquire about that later. For now, she shoots Catra a glare that says, <em> Play along, I’m trying to look like we know what we’re doing. </em></p><p>Catra returns the glare and turns back to her controls with a defensive huff. Briefly, Adora’s chest tightens with the fear that she’s not being sensitive to Catra’s feelings, but she has to push it down. She can’t afford to doubt herself right now.</p><p>Adora glances over her shoulder at Adam, strapped into a seat that folds out from the back wall. His arms are crossed, but he looks impressed. <em> It’s working. </em></p><p>She’s not sure why, but her gut tells her she’s supposed to earn Adam’s respect. He just seems like the kind of person Adora wants on her side. He’s self-assured, independent, and proud. That, and maybe Adora is a little bit excited by the idea of having relatives who are cool, space-faring rebels like him.</p><p>“Alright, Bow,” Adora says with eyes on the pale, faintly starry sky above them, “If you’re ready, take us out.”</p><p>The floor rumbles as the maneuvering thrusters roar to life, the dusty red horizon sinking slowly out of view as <em> Darla </em>points herself skyward. </p><p>“Strap in,” Bow announces from the helm.</p><p>A great, billowing cloud of sand and smoke swallows the ship for a moment before the thulite engines kick in, pressing Adora back against her chair as they defy the planet’s weak gravity with impossible speed. The only sound is the deep, pulsing hum of the engines, the only sight the darkening sky as they exit the tiny planet’s atmosphere. It’s exactly as exhilarating as the first time they escaped Etheria, and every launch after that.</p><p>After a few bone-rattling minutes, the stars come into full view again and the engines’ noise decrescendos to a rhythmic background thrum. </p><p>Bow lets out a contented sigh. “That just never gets old, huh?” he muses.</p><p>“It did for me,” Catra grouses, muffled behind her hand. She doubles over in her seat and barely suppresses a retch.</p><p>Adora finds herself smiling fondly at her girlfriend. Some things never change, like Catra’s sensitive stomach.</p><p>“Entrapta, is she all warmed up?” Bow asks the intercom.</p><p><em> “Portal generator is online!” </em> the engineer reports excitedly. <em> “Initializing jump controls now!” </em></p><p>There’s a series of beeps from Bow’s controls, then a tiny digital fanfare plays to indicate that the portal drive is ready. Bow turns to give one last look at his friends. </p><p>“Everyone ready?”</p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Glimmer says quietly. She sounds pained—or angry, Adora can’t tell. Adora wonders why for a minute, and then she remembers.</p><p>Only now, moments before they activate it, does Adora realize what’s about to happen: they’re going to open a portal. The same type of portal that nearly swallowed reality, the same type that took Angella. The same type that Catra opened in her moment of greatest weakness.</p><p>Adora glances at Catra, no longer folded over with nausea, but curled into herself like a scared child. Her forehead rests on her knees, but Adora can see her eyes are squeezed tightly shut. She rests a tense, unmoving hand on Melog’s head, who is now sitting next to her at full size, leaning their weight against her.</p><p>How deeply Adora wants to be next to her right now, to stop everything and hold her until she’s okay, until these painful memories recede into shadow again—but she can’t. Not because she has to keep looking strong—she couldn’t care less how she looks when Catra is in distress—but because Catra asked Adora a long time ago not to help her when she grapples with her biggest mistakes. She had said it wasn’t fair to ask for Adora to comfort her through the memories of hurting so many people, especially Adora herself. Adora had disagreed, but she knows better now than to push back.</p><p>The problem is, if Adora isn’t there focusing on Catra, she’s forced to come face-to-face with herself. </p><p>Without thinking, she looks to Bow and nods him on. He grips the throttle lever and pushes it all the way to the dashboard.</p><p>It’s eerily silent at first, then a wave of buzzing swells from the engine room and quickly overtakes the whole ship. Dead ahead in the viewport, Adora sees a blue-green vortex swirl into existence. It spins faster as it grows, taking up more and more of the vista until they are surrounded on all sides by its blinding glow.</p><p>Then, underneath the all-consuming noise, Adora hears quiet but clear voices. Not in her ear, but somewhere in the back of her mind. She shuts her eyes so the flashback doesn’t feel too real, but the sounds are enough. </p><p>A sharp-edged voice she’s always known and always loved, cutting her heart out. <em> Pull the switch, and let’s end this! … Don’t you get it? I am never going with you! </em></p><p>A sweet voice she knew too briefly, giving her one last order. <em> Take care of each other. </em></p><p>It’s too much. The pain, the grief, the guilt, it all builds inside Adora’s lungs until they burst and she’s gasping, she’s sobbing, her breathing is too little and too much all at once—</p><p>“Adora!”</p><p>Her eyes snap open and it’s Bow calling her name. Sweet, kind Bow, all in one piece.</p><p>“What happened? Are you okay?”</p><p>Adora lifts two fingers to the pulse point on her neck. Her heart slows down to where she can count the beats again and she focuses on that, on the evidence of her solid, physical existence. There’s a wet trail on her skin; she follows it up her neck, over her jaw and to her cheek, where she wipes away the remaining tears.</p><p>Adora nods, unable to speak for fear of crying again. Then Bow steps back, and in his place is Catra. Catra, her best friend; Catra, the subject of her worst memories and her favorite daydreams; Catra, the love of her life.</p><p>Catra sinks to a squat in front of Adora’s chair. Her eyes shimmer with their own leftover tears, but her breathing is steady. Catra’s shoulders rise and fall as she inhales through her nose and exhales audibly through her mouth. Slowly, Adora catches on and synchronizes her own breaths with Catra’s. </p><p>They hold each other’s gazes. Adora examines Catra’s face and finds her favorite parts: the dimple on her cheek that she gets from smirking too much; each and every little freckle across the bridge of her nose; the almost unnoticeable scar on her forehead from where she smacked into the underside of the bunk bed as a kid. She returns to Catra’s eyes, so deep and colorful and <em> real.  </em></p><p>“Flashback?” Catra asks quietly, knowingly.</p><p>“Yeah,” Adora manages to say. “Guess I’m not coping with <em> that </em> as well as I thought.”</p><p>Catra lets out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”</p><p>“What about you?” Adora asks, wishing to talk about anyone else’s trauma than hers. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Catra blinks slowly. “Adora, I’m fine. I saw it coming and I was ready. Just focus on yourself, alright?”</p><p>“Alright,” Adora sighs. </p><p>Catra stands again, only to lean over and place a slow, soft kiss on Adora’s forehead. She steps away to give Adora some space, and that’s when Adora realizes, they’re not in the portal anymore.</p><p>Out the viewport, she sees an expanse of floating debris unlike any asteroid field they’ve encountered. Hunks of twisted metal drift by in slow motion, some in the sharp, geometric shapes of familiar First Ones designs, others with the long, sweeping curves and elegant points of Galactic Horde ships. Beyond it all, barely visible through the cloud of space junk, is a gray-blue marble, half-bathed in sunlight.</p><p>“Uh,” Adora says, still recovering from the haze of panic, “When did we get here? Is this …?”</p><p>“Eternia,” Adam finishes. He’s standing right next to the command chair, though Adora isn’t sure how long he’s been there. He looks to her inquisitively. “Everything alright?”</p><p>There goes Adora’s strategy to earn Adam’s respect. She laughs awkwardly. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m—it’s all good. Just a … complicated history with, uh, portals.”</p><p>Adam lifts an eyebrow, intrigued. No doubt, she’ll have to explain that eventually. He faces front again, sternly staring at the wreckage before them and the planet it conceals.</p><p>“I knew the devastation was huge, but I had no idea it was <em> this </em>massive,” he murmurs, half to himself. “The battle must have lasted months. What could be left on the surface?”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Adora, “I don’t know if we’ll like what we find.”</p><p>Adam’s fist clenches and anger tinges his voice. “We have to see. I have to know.”</p><hr/><p>Bow patiently guides <em> Darla </em> as she creeps across the debris field. As they make their way, Adora notices it’s not all wrecked ships and war machines. Plenty of the floating ruins don’t appear to have any weapons at all, just windows or oddly shaped panels jutting out from small, simple shapes. In fact, she’d estimate that warships make up only a small minority of the wrecks. Which means the rest of them were either unmanned, or carrying civilians.</p><p>A chill runs down Adora’s spine. This isn’t just a collection of space junk—it’s a mass grave. She imagines the others must realize this too, as when Glimmer speaks, she sounds shaken. </p><p>“Spectral analysis is coming through on the atmosphere now. It’s … not breathable.” Glimmer pokes the intercom button on her control panel. “Entrapta, what can you make of these readings?”</p><p>There’s a long few seconds of silence, and Adora starts to worry if Entrapta is okay. She never takes this long to respond.</p><p>But Adora’s worries are dispelled when the engineer bursts through the door to the bridge. She swiftly glides over to Glimmer’s station on her hair extensions, but gets distracted when she notices the view.</p><p>“Wow,” says Entrapta, eyes sparkling, “This is a technological goldmine! I’ve got to get out there and see what I can salvage, this could—”</p><p>“Entrapta!” Glimmer cuts her off. “Not the time. Now can you look at this?”</p><p>“Ah, right, yes. Readings. Let me see,” Entrapta mutters, leaning over the control panel a few feet in the air. She hums in thought. “High levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide and methane, consistent with unabated combustion of fossil fuels and natural gas … And lethal amounts of ionizing radiation.”</p><p>Adam marches over to Glimmer’s station. </p><p>“What does that mean? Can it be fixed, can we settle it?” he demands.</p><p>Entrapta shrinks back from the dashboard, and explains timidly, “Well … No. Just to make the atmosphere breathable would require near-infinite resources, and even then, with the radioactivity we’re picking up, it’s doubtful that the land has any chance of being arable for at least another few centuries.”</p><p>Entrapta, Glimmer, and even Adora subtly cower as Adam slams a fist against the dashboard and shouts a curse at the Horde. An uncomfortable silence falls over the bridge, broken only when Entrapta murmurs, “I’m … I’m sorry. I’ll go back to the engine room now.”</p><p>Entrapta hurries out of the bridge, her hair extensions dragging sadly behind her. Adora considers running after her, but thinks better of it. Best to stay and keep eyes on the approaching planet—and Adam’s apparent temper.</p><p>Eternia is close enough now that it’s all they can see through the viewport. Dark clouds shroud the planet’s surface, but where they part, Adora can see plains, mountains, valleys, oceans, everything she’d expect. But no color. Every feature seems to have been drained of vitality. There are no greens of grass or forests, no yellows and reds of deserts, nor even blue in the seas. It’s pale. Dead.</p><p>“This is pointless,” Adam grumbles. “Let’s just turn around. I’ve seen all I need to see.”</p><p>Something in Adora’s head screams, <em> No. </em>“Wait, Adam. I still want to land. I want to see for myself.”</p><p>He examines Adora’s face half-suspiciously. “If you insist.”</p><hr/><p>Entering the atmosphere is an ordeal in and of itself, but once <em> Darla </em>breaks through the thick clouds, it all becomes worth it, at least for Adora.</p><p>The ship takes a steep bank as they fly over the surface, presenting them with a breathtaking view of what Adora assumes must have been a city. Great piles of stone and crystal litter the landscape for as far as the eye can see. Through the thick coats of dust, Adora can see faint touches of the city’s former luster. She imagines how it must have looked in its heyday: crystalline towers stretching into the sky, ships soaring overhead, streets bustling with people—people like her and Adam.</p><p>She spots a clearing in the rubble big enough to land <em> Darla. </em> Eagerly, Adora points Bow towards it. </p><p>“There! Set us down there.”</p><p>The ship gently slows as it descends toward the landing spot. They touch down with a muted <em> thud, </em> kicking up a small plume of dust with the thrusters.</p><p>Adora has to make a physical effort to contain the excitement in her voice as she jumps to her feet and asks the bridge, “Okay! Who wants to go out there with me?”</p><p>She looks to Adam first, who nods wordlessly, looking a little put off by her enthusiasm.</p><p>“I’ll come. Could be fun,” says Bow as he stands from his seat at the helm.</p><p>“Me too, I guess,” Glimmer echoes.</p><p>Adora glances at Catra, who’s leaning back in her chair and resting her crossed legs on the dashboard nonchalantly. </p><p>“Of course I’m coming,” she drawls, smirking and examining her claws. “You’d all probably die without me.”</p><p>Adora can’t help but smirk back, cross her arms and cock an eyebrow. Catra catches her out of the corner of her eye and giggles quietly, sharing in a joke that still feels private even though it’s known to the rest of their friends, like the old ledge in the Fright Zone.</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em> Catra </em>
</h3><p>As the airlock opens, Catra’s earpiece is flooded with quiet noises of amazement. The ruins looked impressive from the ship, but from the surface they inspire a kind of terrible, sublime reverence, much like Catra felt when she first laid eyes on the great magical battery at the Heart of Etheria.</p><p>Unlike the Heart, which was teeming with so much energy that it made Catra’s skin tingle, this place is unnervingly empty. The planet doesn’t feel like it could be home to anything, not even the smallest insect, let alone an entire civilization. Its very essence is inhospitable.</p><p>The crew trudges across the barren, gray landscape, towards the nearest pile of wreckage. </p><p>“What did this?” Bow wonders out loud.</p><p>“Judging by the way everything is sort of … leveled, plus the radiation, the most likely explanation is repeated thermonuclear bombardment,” says Entrapta with equal parts amazement and terror.</p><p>That’s when Catra remembers sitting on a ledge aboard the <em> Velvet Glove, </em> watching numbly as Horde Prime’s armada razed a helpless planet below with impossibly large fireballs. The scars that the bombs left on the distant surface were smokey, mostly black and gray with a few fires still smoldering like the embers of a dying funeral pyre. That’s what must have happened to Eternia, Catra guesses: baptism by fire.</p><p>“This was Horde Prime,” Catra says bitterly. “This is what he did to planets that didn’t behave.”</p><p>From behind, she sees Adam tense up under his suit, still stained from the sandy planet he was rescued from. He says nothing.</p><p>The ruin that they eventually reach is at least two storeys high, even in its crumbled state. Hexagonal columns thicker than ancient trees lie in a pile, snapped like twigs. Hunks of wall are half-buried in ash, their once-smooth surfaces almost completely encrusted.</p><p>Adam looks on as Adora runs a hand along one of the surfaces, attempting to brush off the dust and debris. Her finger finds a groove, and she traces a shape in the ash.</p><p>“It’s a word,” Adora whispers. “Eter...nos? Eternos?”</p><p>Adam hums with understanding. “Eternos. The ancient capital city. This must be the same place my family fled from all those centuries ago …”</p><p>Adam’s words are forgotten quickly as something shifts under the rubble. Dust clouds and loose stones come cascading down the mountain of scrap as something pushes the remnants of the structure out of its way.</p><p>Catra’s claws are already out before the source of the disturbance shows itself from under the ruins. Her vision narrows in on the hulking form that emerges. Its mechanical body is rusted and broken, but its whining servos still have the strength to throw aside a massive column. The bot stands to its full height, almost as tall as the pile it emerged from, and displayed proudly on its white chest panel— </p><p>A pair of pointed black wings.</p><p>Before she knows it, Catra is lunging at the ancient Horde bot with every ounce of her speed, claws bared and snarling. She leaps, finds purchase on one of its shoulder plates, and swings around onto the bot’s back. Hooking her feet under an armor plate, she winds up a deadly blow to its faintly glowing neck port, but then—</p><p>
  <em> “For the Honor of Grayskull!” </em>
</p><p>With a flash of brilliant, prismatic light and a glint of white and gold, the bot shutters as the Sword of Protection slashes it in half at the waist. Catra pushes off its back and manages to land somewhat gracefully on top of a stone before the bot’s top half comes crashing down.</p><p>“Come on, Adora! I totally had that one,” Catra complains, but she can’t stay mad for long. Because of course, standing there in all of her eight-foot, glowing, muscular glory, is She-Ra. Her hair—still in a long ponytail, despite Adora’s chop—blows in an intangible wind. She’s got that look on her face, the one where her glowing eyes and dark, furrowed brows say, <em> I’m extremely serious about protecting my friends, </em> but the way her lips turn up slightly at the ends says, <em> I know exactly how cool and sexy I look right now. </em> Catra hates how irresistibly attractive she is.</p><p>Catra almost forgets that they were supposed to be keeping She-Ra a secret from Adam. Glimmer reminds her, whispering sharply into the comm, “Adora! What did we talk about!”</p><p><em> Shit. </em>This just got complicated. Judging by Adam’s rage upon learning what the Horde did to Eternia, he probably has every reason to try and recruit She-Ra for some kind of revenge quest. And didn’t Adora read a First Ones inscription a minute ago? Damn it, she really let their cover slip.</p><p>“Sorry, Glimmer,” She-Ra says with her deep, commanding voice that somehow echoes all around, “Just instinct. We should go back to the ship. I don’t want to risk any more old bots attacking us.”</p><p>Catra glances at Adam to see just how much damage control they’ll have to do. He definitely looks like he just saw She-Ra for the first time, but there’s something else on his face. It shifts from plain awe to realization to some kind of inspiration, all in an instant. Catra can’t get a read on what he’s thinking, but she’s sure it’s not good.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't worry, we're not done on Eternia yet. Next chapter we'll be sticking around here, and then it's off to another scenic destination.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Too Much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bow and Glimmer have cake. Adam and Adora get a workout in. Catra and Melog do some reconnaissance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Possibly the only thing more shocking than seeing She-Ra for the first time is watching her transform back into Adora. Catra is reminded of this while she and the crew get out of their suits in the airlock. As Adam looks on, She-Ra’s body ignites in a golden glow, her form morphing into a smaller, less ridiculously muscular one. Where a second ago there was a legendary divine warrior, there is now Adora, in her everyday red and gray environmental suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora slips off her helmet and instinctively shakes her head, as if freeing her once-long hair. Short bangs fall into her eyes and stick to her forehead, damp with sweat. Removing her gloves, she tucks one under her arm and pushes her unruly hair back. Catra would usually appreciate any chance she gets to see Adora hot and sweaty, but she’s a little too miffed to enjoy the view right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, they weren’t being completely honest with Adam before. But this wasn’t petty, childish secret-keeping; it was strategic withholding of information in the name of security. She-Ra is probably the most powerful single being in the entire universe, after all. Unless they were trying to intimidate, they wouldn’t just go around advertising that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, well our friend here is actually a being of pure magic, a complete dumbass, and a bleeding heart who throws herself to the front of every righteous cause she finds. Feel free to take advantage of her unimaginable power!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Leave it to Adora to abandon the strategic high ground in the name of smashing bots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re magic,” Adam whispers in awe, “aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora fumbles nervously with the tiny zipper on the front of her spacesuit. “Well… Yeah, I am. Surprise!” she chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, what a disaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean you can heal? Could you heal Eternia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face falls as she meets Adam’s stare, the faint light behind her eyes dimming. “I don’t think I can, Adam. There’s nothing here. I can heal, but I can’t raise the dead. I can’t create life where there isn’t any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s face hardens with frustration. He stands up, growling as he shucks the last pieces of his suit off. As he storms out of the airlock, he throws his helmet to the floor with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Entrapta flinches at the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra, Adora, Glimmer, and Bow exchange a round of looks ranging from sympathy to distrust. Adora is the first to break the uncomfortable silence left by Adam’s outburst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel really bad for him,” she says quietly, examining the floor. “I know it’s technically my planet too, but … I can’t imagine what he must be feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” says Catra uneasily. “I mean, listen. I get it. This place was important, and it sucks that it’s gone, but it was a seriously long time ago. They’ve been living on that other planet for centuries. Why is he so mad about it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow hums thoughtfully. “I think it kind of makes sense. People hold grudges, so can cultures. And this …” he gestures to the porthole in the airlock door, and the wasteland outside, “This isn’t something a culture just moves on from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Glimmer agrees, “I mean, wouldn’t you be angry if the Horde destroyed your ancestral home and decimated your people, Catra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, the Queen’s utter lack of critical thinking shines. Catra glowers at her, brow furrowing and ears folded back in insult. “They did. Why do you think I’m the only—y’know …” she gestures at her thrashing tail, “that you’ve ever met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer’s eyes widen with realization and she draws a sharp breath in through her teeth. “Oh. Gotcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora finishes stripping off her suit and shoots Catra a questioning glance. Catra just shakes her head and turns away, looks back towards the doorway where Adam just made his enraged exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, none of them understand after all. Catra must be the only one who can feel it, the way Adam seems to suck the warmth out of a room when he’s angry. It’s just as well, Catra supposes. She’s still going to get to the bottom of whatever is going on with Adam. She’s just going to have to do it the old-fashioned way: alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em>
    <span>Glimmer</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Bow and Glimmer return to their quarters silently. The door slides shut and they release a held breath in tandem, relieved to be free of that very tense situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been another long, tiring day. There’s nothing Glimmer would like more than to curl up in Bow’s arms and listen to him explain how everything will turn out okay, and they’ll be back home soon taking monthly vacations to Mystacor and eating cake every day. But no, she remembers, that’s not how this works. Bow is probably tired too, and she needs to respect that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer taps the touch-panel next to the door to dim the lights, letting the few glowing crystal lamps she brought from Bright Moon fill the bedroom with a gentle pink ambience. Under the natural phosphorescence of the crystals, Bow’s dark skin shines violet with the sweat of the day. He wipes his brow, notices Glimmer staring at him—how could she not?—and dimples his cheeks with a half-hearted smile as he wiggles out of his thermals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Glimmer asks, sitting down on the plush purple bed to begin removing her own layers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow’s heavy breathing stutters as he shakes a foot out of the end of his leggings. “I’m fine. Just tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too. That was a lot, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. I feel kind of dumb for not bringing my bow, but how was I supposed to know there’d be bots?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer chuckles as she unzips the high collar of her thermal top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to my world. You really don’t appreciate how useful glowy magic beams are—or trick arrows—until you don’t have them anymore. Not that it matters much when you’re travelling with a demigoddess and an apex predator with knives in her hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow snorts, peeling off his own top and chucking it in the laundry hole by the closet. “Catra, though … I really don’t get what her deal is with Adam. I mean, he’s got a bit of a temper, sure, but she’s Catra. She’s like, all temper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also,” Bow continues, flopping down on the bed next to Glimmer, “she’s totally not the only catperson we’ve ever met. There was that one lady who helped kidnap me and Sea Hawk and Swift Wind that one time, and … Well, that’s it actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, two. Still not a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer drops her sweaty thermals on the floor and scoots up to lie fully on the bed. She holds her arms open, motioning for Bow to join her. He does, and wraps an arm around her as she rests her head on his bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geez, I can’t believe I never thought about that. Do you think they’re all … you know, gone?” Glimmer wonders aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” says Bow absently. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer lifts her head to look Bow in his tired eyes, hoping to see where his thoughts are wandering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re okay, babe?” she asks softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow shuts his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, I’m alright, I just …” He looks back at Glimmer cautiously. “I’ve been thinking about—about what you told me the other week. When we were fixing the shield generators.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer holds her breath. She knew she had said something wrong, it was only a matter of time before it hurt Bow and came back to her. Guilt tightens its grip on her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want you to know that if you ever feel like—if I’m not giving you what you need, if I’m not taking care of you well enough, you can …” Bow chokes up briefly. “It’s okay if you want to find someone else. I’d understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer can hardly contain herself, it’s such an outrageous suggestion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bow, why would I ever want anyone else? You’re my best friend. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s like you said. I don’t have all the answers. I never will. But you, Glimmer,” he whispers, tracing the wing-like birthmarks on her shoulder blades, making her shiver, “You deserve someone who does. You deserve someone who can always take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I want, Bow!” Glimmer cries quietly. “I want you—all of you, exactly as you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She presses her forehead to his chest and runs a finger along the thin scars left there by the permanent transfiguration spell he got for his fourteenth birthday. A tear rolls off her cheek and onto his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I meant when I said that … I meant that you do your best to help me and protect me when I need it,” she whispers into his chest, “And your best is always enough, even if you can’t fix things for me. I don’t love you because you solve my problems.” Glimmer lifts her head again and places a palm flat against Bow’s heart. “I love you because you’re sweet, and kind and witty and handsome, and … You make me feel limitless, like I can do anything as long as you’re there. I’m sorry if I’ve let you forget that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To tell you the truth, I haven’t done my best to take care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says, propping herself up and stroking a hand along Bow’s face, moistened with silent tears. “You deserve that too, Bow. And I want to be the one to do it for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes soften and wrinkle with an adoring smile, the one that melts Glimmer every single time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bow says with a warm breath, and Glimmer can feel the</span>
  <em>
    <span> “I love you too” </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the low vibration of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wipes a stray tear from her cheek and scoffs teasingly. “Kiss me already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer lets Bow guide her head down until their mouths meet. Their lips glide together effortlessly, elegantly. He tastes like the thrill of a secret kept from her mother, and at the same time, the safety of knowing that he’d always be welcomed at Bright Moon’s dinner table. Bow is everything. He’s home and he’s an adventure, night and day, sweet and savory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath his hard, muscled exterior, Bow is so soft and open that it’s the easiest thing in the universe for Glimmer to sink into him, let his arms wrap her up and his teeth pull ever so gently on her bottom lip. He’s as big as the night sky, and all she can do is get lost in his stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow’s stomach interrupts their passion with an uncouth growl. Glimmer pulls away, giggling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely,” Bow chuckles. He lifts a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “How about … cake for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know it.” Glimmer smiles mischievously. “You can have some cake for dessert too, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be gross,” Bow chides, but he definitely doesn’t say no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slip on some loose pajamas and fluffy purple slippers. And even though nobody on this ship is going to stop them, Glimmer and Bow still sneak quietly to the kitchen, giggling and hushing each other as they clandestinely assemble baking ingredients from the pantry.</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>The thrill of the very brief fight still hums in Adora’s veins. She hates to admit it, but she missed this feeling. Sparring with Catra is one thing; safe, mostly predictable, somewhat evenly matched. But this is different. Defending her friends, letting She-Ra burst forth and slice through an enemy with devastating power—it makes Adora feel everything so much more vividly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, lying in bed completely still, in total darkness, trace adrenaline floods Adora’s senses. Her heart is beating so hard she’s afraid the sound of it might wake Catra, sleeping peacefully with her head tucked into Adora’s side. One thing is clear: there’s no way Adora will be joining Catra in her slumber. Not unless she blows off some steam first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautiously, Adora slides away from her bedmate, pulling a pillow into place so that Catra has something to cuddle. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and rises slowly so as not to disturb the mattress too much. Assured that her girlfriend is still asleep, Adora pulls on her dirty gray sports bra, red running shorts, and workout shoes, and grabs the athletic tape on her desk before slipping out of the bedroom.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>As she finishes wrapping her hands, the door to the rec room slides open before her. The last thing Adora expects is to find that someone else is already there, beating on the heavy bag she had managed to sneak aboard: Adam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look Adora’s way as she enters. Blow after blow thumps out a drumbeat on the canvas, like the still-heavy beating of Adora’s heart. Adam pauses for a breath between bouts, his eyes flitting toward Adora only briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Adam huffs before continuing his assault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Adora hesitates, grabbing her neck and waving awkwardly, “Hey, Adam! Fancy meeting you here,” she chuckles uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam acknowledges her with a nod between jabs. This is obviously not what Adora had hoped for, but there’s something nice about knowing she’s not the only person on the ship who can’t sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora sidles further into the room, toward the couch against the far wall, giving Adam a wide berth. She stands in front of the couch for a moment, unsure of what to do with her body now that she has to wait her turn. Reluctantly, she settles on the edge of the cushions, legs together and back straight with military posture—but despite her discipline, her leg still bounces uncontrollably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” says Adora in an attempt at small talk, Adam showing no signs of relenting, “You like fighting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a barely restrained grunt, Adam delivers a powerful uppercut to the bag that leaves it spinning and swinging from its chain. He backs away, watches it sway helplessly for a second, then catches it with both hands. Turning to Adora, he begins unraveling the tape from his fists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—uh, sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like fighting, but I just …” Adam lets out a tightly wound breath as he falls onto the couch next to Adora, grabbing his towel from the arm of the sofa and dabbing his sweat. “The galaxy is a dangerous place, and seeing what happened to Eternia makes me feel like—like I have to do something. And this,” he motions to the punching bag hanging from the low ceiling, “feels like doing something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a feeling Adora is intimately familiar with. Whether it was during training in the Horde, the early days of her time with the Rebellion and She-Ra, or the agonizing months she spent without access to her magic, Adora </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to be doing something. Had to be useful. The alternative was to fail her friends, the world, the universe—it was too frightful to consider. So she threw herself at every task, every mission, every battle that came along, determined to give everything she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Adora mutters distractedly, too busy dwelling on her past to express how deeply she understands, “I definitely get what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Adora a few moments of total silence in the rec room to realize that the bag is free. She shakes herself free from her memories and gets up, rolling her shoulders and bouncing on the balls of her feet to get the blood flowing again. Squaring herself in front of the punching bag, Adora takes a ready stance and starts with a few tame hits. She slowly ramps up the speed and intensity of her strikes until the sound and feeling of her fists against the bag are constant, background noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the months it’s been since she stopped boxing regularly at Catra’s insistence, Adora falls back on her old training quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Left jab, right jab, right jab, left hook. Right jab, left jab, right hook. Left jab, left jab, uppercut. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The mantras play automatically in her mind; they clear out everything else until it’s just her fists and the sack of sand in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Adora,” says Adam, interrupting Adora’s zen and causing her to lose her rhythm momentarily, “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” is all Adora can say as she finds her flow again, tries to lose herself in the sting of her knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, ‘For the Honor of Grayskull’? Giant, glowing woman with great hair and a sword who somehow didn’t need an environmental suit? Am I ringing any bells?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So busy was Adora with punching out her feelings that she almost forgot to explain the existence of the magical warrior that lives inside her. Disappointed that she must abandon her meditative boxing, Adora steps away from the bag and grumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right. Well, you see, that’s She-Ra, and she—I—okay,” Adora sighs. “I’m really gonna have to start with the basics. She-Ra is the guardian spirit of Etheria, and she chooses a vessel to wield the Sword of Protection and defend the planet and its peoples with divine magic. And in this lifetime, that vessel,” Adora extends a hand forward and summons the sword with a hot fizzle of energy in her palm, “is me. I’m She-Ra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam just stares and shakes his head in disbelief. “Adora, you understand that nobody has seen magic of any kind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the galaxy for—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For centuries, yeah, I know,” Adora finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then how did you manage to escape eradication?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora lets out a bark of laughter at the sheer irony of the question. “I don’t think it’s fair to say we escaped. Prime did very nearly wipe us out in the end. We just, sort of, were … hidden for a while. But we’re fine now! Better than ever, actually. Me and my girlfriend, we—well, all my other friends too, but not in the same way—we destroyed Horde Prime before he could destroy us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You …” Adam’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, his eyes widening and searching for answers on Adora’s face. “You’re She-Ra, and you destroyed Horde Prime. You’re She-Ra! You destroyed Horde Prime!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora smiles sheepishly and chuckles through her teeth. “Yep, that’s—that’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! I’m such an idiot. You’re the one who inspired all those people on all those planets to push out the Horde! You, Adora,” he says commandingly as he stands up and approaches her, pointing a finger at her chest, “You are the hero of the galaxy. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>universe.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh … thanks?” Adora has gotten used to She-Ra being showered in praise at this point. It’s a guilty pleasure of hers, most of the time, riding the coattails of her alter-ego’s fame and adoration. This particular instance, though, is getting uncomfortable in a way she can’t quite place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could lead us into a new era of peace and prosperity! You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>savior,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Adora!” Adam’s eyes drill into Adora’s skull like steel rods, his pupils wide and dark contrasting against his pale skin and sweat-damp blond hair. “You could harness your planet’s magic and exterminate the Horde for good, and we could—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adora’s voice explodes from her chest deeper and louder than she could have ever intended it to, rattling her own skull with its power, startling Adam back a few steps. She-Ra doesn’t often make her will known like this, but when she does, it’s hard for Adora to disagree. White heat glows behind her eyes. Her fist tightens around the gleaming hilt of the sword, its tip buzzing with energy against the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t use Etheria—you can’t use </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a weapon to fight the Horde. As much as I want them gone, I can’t let you abuse magic like that. Not again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s dark brows furrow with suspicion. He speaks quietly but assuredly, like a chess player who’s just put Adora in check. “What do you mean, ‘not again?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s throat tightens and the sword flickers out of existence, leaving her fist gripping the air. There’s no avoiding this revelation now, it seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember that, uh, legendary planet with magic so powerful it didn’t need a sun?” Adora whispers, the ghost of She-Ra’s power gone from her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Understanding begins to color Adam’s face as he nods her on silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well … That’s us,” says Adora simply. “A long time ago, the First Ones—Eternians—colonized Etheria. And instead of just controlling the planet’s magic, mining it to power their machines like they did everywhere else, they …” She trails off and shuts her eyes, the Failsafe scar practically burning on her chest. “They siphoned it away into a giant battery in the core—the Heart of Etheria. They turned the planet into a bomb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They built a sword to control She-Ra and turn her into part of the weapon, made it so that only a First One could wield it. But the one they chose, Mara, the She-Ra before me, instead of setting off the Heart of Etheria … She fell in love with the planet. She couldn’t stand to see it destroyed along with so many others in the name of bringing peace. So she used the Heart’s power to open a portal and pull the planet into an empty dimension, where the First Ones couldn’t reach it, couldn’t use it to hurt anyone. But a thousand years later, what remained of the First Ones’ computers managed to open a small portal, just big enough for an Eternian baby to be pulled through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s eyes are blown out now, his breathing shallow. He stumbles back slowly into a seat on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that baby …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was me, yeah,” Adora says bitterly, casting her eyes down to the floor. “I’m a First One. An Eternian. They pulled me through and eventually I found the sword they made, became She-Ra, and nearly set the weapon off. But I love Etheria too. It’s the only home I know. So I destroyed their sword, and when Prime found us, we broke the restraints of the Heart, freed the magic, and She-Ra ended him. For good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re …” Adam’s voice is barely audible, but it’s just loud enough for Adora to hear the shock. “You’re an Eternian. I guess that explains how you could read those glyphs.” He pauses, rubbing at his forehead with two fingers. “Adora, I don’t understand. You’re an Eternian. Don’t you want to help your people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She straightens her neck and sets her jaw, looks into Adam’s eyes with clear determination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be Eternian, but I’m She-Ra first. My first and only duty is to protect Etheria. Using its magic to fight wars across the galaxy … It’s exactly what Mara gave her life to prevent. I’m sorry, but that’s not what She-Ra does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam sits up straight, his lips pressed into a tense line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then. I suppose thanks are in order for getting rid of Prime. But there’s still plenty of work to be done. If you’re not willing to help, so be it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We came out here to help people,” says Adora, defending her position. “Not by fighting the Horde, but by giving people magic, the power to defend themselves. That’s what I’m willing to do.” Adora marches over to where Adam stis on the couch and extends him a hand. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> willing to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He examines her hand, her arm, then meets her eyes with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to say, I didn’t expect a leader of your stature to actually ask. You’re awfully humble for a divine warrior. But, since you did …” He grabs Adora’s forearm and, recognizing the familiar gesture, she pulls him up to stand tall and proud. “Fine, She-Ra. I’ll help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Catra doesn’t know where Adora got the idea that she’s stealthy. Everything about her is loud, from the effortful grunts she makes when she’s getting dressed in the middle of the night to her thumping footsteps out the door. Catra used to insist on pulling Adora back into bed whenever she tried to sneak away, but now she just pretends to sleep and lets Adora do what she needs. The girl has always had a lot of energy; Catra has learned it’s better just to let her get it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Problem is, now Catra is awake. And when Catra is awake, she worries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog, ever the perceptive one, is lying across Catra’s chest, rumbling a calming purr into her as she stares at the low ceiling from the bed. Catra reciprocates the purr, lets her body relax the way her instincts want her to. But her thoughts still roam freely into dark corners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think of him, Melog?” Catra asks, her voice raspy with stolen sleep. “Of Adam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog equivocates with a mew. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do not know. I sense great anger in him, but I have been angry in the same way before. His people have been through a great deal of grief.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t feel weird about him since he’s one of the people who tried to take your magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His ancestors hurt my planet, yes, but that gives me no reason to distrust him on a personal level. Adora shares that heritage too, after all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says Melog’s voice in Catra’s hindbrain.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Do you feel ‘weird’ about him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra hums anxiously. “Yeah, but I’m afraid I’m just being paranoid. I can’t tell if it’s really a … magic sense thing, or just a gut feeling that I’m reading too much into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog stands on her chest and looks down at her, purplish eyes glowing in the dark room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Give your instincts credit, Catra. Although they can cloud your vision, they may also hold kernels of truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Running a hand through Melog’s misty mane, Catra considers their words. This thing that tugs at her when Adam is around isn’t just her usual trust issues. It’s something more. Something sinister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, my instincts are telling me there’s something up with this guy. And I need to find out what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, Catra pushes Melog off and lifts herself off the bed. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, stretches her arms as far as they’ll go above her head. For tonight, restlessness will be her ally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Melog. Cloak me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog rubs against her leg and tilts their head at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do not like where this is going,</span>
  </em>
  <span> they chirrup, </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I do not think I can stop you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a shadow, Melog’s strange magic shrouds Catra in a cool darkness. The pair disappear from the bedroom together in total silence.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Passing through an impermeable surface with Melog’s help will never not feel weird, Catra guesses. It feels almost like sinking into soft sand that only a second ago was solid rock as they float through Adam’s closed door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is dark, but Catra’s vision allows her to see that it’s unoccupied. The plain sheets are pulled tidily across the cot against the wall, like they’ve never been slept on at all. In the corner, there’s a few neat piles of boxes, bags of clothes, and some loose machine parts—personal effects from Adam’s abandoned ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra approaches the pile cautiously. At the bottom is a long, rectangular metal chest with a hefty padlock securing its lid. As she gets closer, something prickles her spine, sends bolts of cold through her whiskers and into her head—the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pull </span>
  </em>
  <span>is back. It yanks on every nerve in Catra’s body, beckons her closer and closer until she’s standing over it, reaching a hand down toward it. Its will is so strong, Catra can almost hear it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it seems to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will take. Give to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stumbling back, Catra pulls herself out of the thrall of whatever it is that the chest contains. Her breathing is shallow, heart racing, pupils blown so wide she can see color in the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—what is that?” she whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog’s shimmering, invisible form meows apprehensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is a thing which takes too much.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ohoho, what could it be?</p><p>As always, please leave a comment if you're enjoying this! I love to talk theories and meta, if you have any. Also, for those who haven't figured it out, Bow is trans.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Rough Translation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora draws some maps. Entrapta remembers her childhood. Catra reads a book.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy new year! To all of you who have come back to this after more than 2 months without an update, thank you for your patience. I'm really excited to bring this back.</p><p>If you need a recap of the first 8 chapters and you don't feel like re-reading, <a href="https://strongcatra.tumblr.com/post/638783228451356672/chapters-1-8-recap-after-months-of-nothing">click here!</a></p><p>This chapter makes explicit reference to my other fic, "Maps" (the one before this in the series) as well as to the canon graphic novel, <i>She-Ra: Legend of the Fire Princess.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Stars drift across the bridge’s viewport like specks of dust in an attic. Entrapta floats past on a tether, scavenging bits of ancient tech from the remnants of Eternia’s last stand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond the field of debris in orbit, Adora can just barely make out the positions and relative sizes of the brightest points of light. That’s all she needs for now; one by one, she marks them in her notebook with a calculated press of pen to grid-lined paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no real reason for her to draw maps by hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> navigation systems are easy enough to program, and the Star Siblings’ charts have been accurate enough thus far. But after her fourth or fifth boxing-related sprain, Catra had told Adora to get a new hobby, one that didn’t involve the potential for physical injury. Stellar cartography seemed the best candidate—useful to the team in a pinch, keeps the mind sharp. And in a life of so much newness and uncertainty, maps ground Adora in simple facts of the physical universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding her pen at arms length, Adora eyeballs the distance between two twinkling points, checks it against her notebook, then measures again. Just as she’s about to dot the star onto the page, the sound of the door opening catches her ear. She swivels around in the captain’s chair to find Catra standing in the doorway, half-asleep with her dark hair frizzled to one side, tail dragging lazily behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, sleepy head,” Adora says fondly. “You missed the launch this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s stomach audibly growls. “I assure you, I did not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora dog-ears the page in her notebook as she sets it down on the armrest. She approaches Catra with open arms, ready to catch her as she falls into Adora’s chest. Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s waist and holds on tight, a quiet purr beginning in her throat; in turn, Adora presses a whisper-soft kiss to her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get breakfast?” Adora asks, but Catra doesn’t reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, Adora pulls apart from Catra to look into her eyes. Her pupils are like knife-slits in blue and gold fabric, brows knitted together with something close to fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra squeezes Adora’s biceps, her claws poking out slightly. “Did you talk to Adam last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora sighs. “I did, yeah. I’m sorry if I woke you up, I was—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Adora, just … What did he tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Adora worries her lip, trying to remember the conversation, “He didn’t really tell me anything, I guess. He asked me about She-Ra, and I told him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp inhale, and Catra releases her hold on Adora’s arms. Her tone grows dire. “How much did you tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of … everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora,” Catra groans as she presses her palms against her eyes, “You have to be more careful. We don’t know what his deal is, we can’t trust him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In another life, Adora might have gotten defensive. But things are different now. She knows this is just Catra’s old habits projecting themselves onto the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra, it’s okay. We’re not at war anymore. I told him about She-Ra and yeah, he did try to tell me we should go after the Horde remnants, but I stood my ground and he respects that. He’s even going to help us bring magic back to the other planets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not listening to me, Adora! Don’t—” Catra cuts herself off as she looks at the floor, fear and frustration souring into guilt on her features. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but … There’s something going on with Adam that he’s not telling us. Something big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra …” Adora whispers, and guides Catra’s face back up to meet her own with a gentle hand. “He’s not going to hurt you. I promise you can trust him. And if I’m wrong, you know I’ll always protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra averts her gaze for a still moment, then draws in a deep breath and meets Adora’s stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not me that I’m worried about, Adora.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With this, Catra reaches down to grasp Adora’s hand. She only releases it as she turns away and walks off the bridge, leaving Adora in confused solitude.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Entrapta</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>“Starship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla,</span>
  </em>
  <span> technical log, day …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta lets out a held breath as she stares at the readouts of the portal drive’s diagnostic panel. It’s all fine, every reading completely nominal. There’s no use recording it if nothing is happening, so she decides to switch gears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Personal log,” Entrapta mutters into the recorder, “day … whatever. Just had lunch after my spacewalk. Still no indication of the cause of Hordak’s abnormal behavior, or Catra’s. I may have to resort to a more direct method of inquiry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances up from the screen at Hordak, standing at the wall and gazing out one of the narrow viewports at the gray planet below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hope he’s not … mad at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta clicks the recorder off and slips it into her pocket with a hair extension. She sets her jaw and quiets her mind, still racing with all the possible outcomes of this conversation, none of them particularly good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hordak,” she says simply, “I want to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hordak’s pale pointed ear perks in her direction, soon followed by one eye as he turns over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” he asks, betraying nothing in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been acting strangely.” Entrapta paces toward the clone slowly, timidly. “Usually you’re more relaxed when it’s just the two of us, but lately you seem tense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing beside him at the window now, Entrapta removes her gloves to place a gentle hand on Hordak’s lower back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can talk to me, Hordak. I may not always understand, but I’ll listen. What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At her touch, his head snaps forward, returning his stare to the viewport. His ears fold down on themselves slightly as he opens his mouth, closes it again, looks for words that aren’t coming easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been deep in thought,” he murmurs. “This planet … Its destruction was before my time, but the hivemind remembered. It was a great victory in the Horde’s annals, the scale of which we aspired to for centuries. It represented our might, our power, Prime’s just and eternal dominion. I never realized what it represented to the beings whose homes we destroyed. I wanted to believe Adam was just arrogant and overzealous, but …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hordak turns away from the viewport and looks down at Entrapta. His hand grips her shoulder firmly, not too tight, as he whispers a question: “Entrapta, what happened to your … family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Well, I had a couple of nursery bots back in Dryl, and they took care of me until I was fully grown, then—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Entrapta,” Hordak interrupts with a twinge of sadness in his voice, “I mean your human family. The ones who created you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta thinks back as far as her memory will go. She knows she had parents at some point—someone had to build the nursery bots, after all. But she can’t recall any specifics about them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I remember is … they locked me in the lab. I thought we were playing a game. They said I should hide there, that the maze and the traps would keep out the … bad … people. Then they left. I was probably three or four—almost thirty years ago now. And I guess the ‘bad people’ were …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta wishes she could stop following this thought to its logical conclusion, but it’s too simple, basic arithmetic: the Horde must have attacked Dryl, laid siege to the Crypto Castle—and took her parents. Anything beyond that, she can’t bear to imagine. She looks up at Hordak to find him grimacing, eyes full of guilt and shame and grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entrapta,” Hordak says, straining against the pain, “I did not understand why the rebels claimed to be so righteous in their cause. I thought that what I was doing was simply the way wars are won. But now that I know what my actions cost you …” He sinks down to his knees and stares at the floor. “How can I live with myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her blood running cold, Entrapta considers the question. How does anyone live with this guilt—Catra, Scorpia, even Entrapta herself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You work,” Entrapta says, trying to be firm although her voice still wavers with uncertainty. “You work to fix the damage you did, and you do it knowing that the people you hurt might still never forgive you. And that’s hard. It can feel like they’re not acknowledging you, or that they just don’t like you. But you do it anyway because you know that it’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, Hordak,” Entrapta says, gentler now as she squats down and looks her lab partner in the glowing red eyes, “for what it’s worth … I’ll be the first one to say, I forgive you.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>The bridge is mostly silent as they prepare to depart for Empyria, save for the clicks and beeps coming from the crew’s various control panels. Adora breathes deeply, pushes her hair back, adjusts her vest and her pin again. She’s resolved that this time, she won’t let the portal jump trigger her. She knows it’s coming. Just a few minutes of eerie blue-green glowing, some noises, and it’s over. Nothing to be scared of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she can’t help but stiffen and feel her heart in her throat when Bow announces, “Alright, the course is laid in. One jump back to the system we found Adam in, a few minutes to let the portal drive recharge, then another jump to Empyria. All told, it should take about two hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what? Two hours?” Adora gasps, “Didn’t it only take us like ten minutes last time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like thirty minutes,” Catra says coolly from her seat. “You were panicking for kind of a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow turns around to give Adora a sympathetic look. “That, but also Entrapta said we have to take it slower if we’re doing two jumps in a row. Can’t risk another overheat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so a few minutes has become a couple hours. Nothing Adora can’t handle. She just has to keep breathing, keep reminding herself that she’s safe. If she’s being honest with herself, having Catra sit in her lap might actually help a lot. But things between them have felt off today ever since their conversation about Adam this morning. Better to just keep her distance for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, everyone ready?” Bow asks as he swivels back around and starts flipping a few switches on his control panel. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> plays her little tune to indicate that the portal drive is online.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All set,” Glimmer confirms from the comms station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whenever you are, Arrow Boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow looks to Adam at the rear of the bridge, who nods as he straps into his foldout seat. Then he turns to Adora, still looking concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she assures Bow, although she’s not so certain. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” The pilot turns back to his control panel and hesitates, then grips the throttle lever. “Here we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Bow pushes the lever forward, the whole ship buzzes with the energy of the portal generator. A blue-green vortex forms at the very tip of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> pointed hull and spins into an all-consuming maw of energy, drowning out the view of the vast debris field.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora focuses on her breathing: in for seven counts, out for eleven. She shuts her eyes, if only to keep the unnatural light of the portal from giving her a headache. The ship lurches forward, but there’s no sudden burst of acceleration, no weight pushing Adora’s chest back into her seat. When she opens her eyes again, the possibility of panic dissipates and is replaced by a sensation she has no name for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond the plexiglass, vague splotches of color bend and warp as they fly by at impossible speeds. Reality seems to have folded in on itself, like a simple sheet of paper rolled into a never-ending tube of darkness and light, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> passing through its center. Adora finds herself unable to think about anything else but how small she truly is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s pulled from her awestruck state by a languorous noise from Catra as she stretches her legs in front of her, yawning just a little too widely and showing off her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m not needed here, I’m gonna take a nap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine by me,” Bow says absently, his eyes glued to the incredible panorama outside the viewport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up, Catra’s eyes catch Adora’s. They shimmer and glow under the multicolored blackness. She makes her way toward the door, but not before stopping briefly beside Adora’s chair. Catra’s tail brushes Adora’s calf, feather-light, just above her boot. Recognizing the gesture, Adora reaches for Catra’s hand subtly. She runs a thumb along her knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you,” Adora whispers, assured her words are inaudible to everyone save for Catra’s sensitive ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too,” says Catra. She holds Adora’s gaze for only a moment longer before releasing her hand and heading for the exit. Adora feels some of her stress melt away with a deep breath, knowing that she still has Catra’s heart, even after their tense moment this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, Catra’s distrust of Adam bothers her. She turns to watch Catra leave the bridge and tries not to notice the way her ear shifts toward Adam as she passes him, followed slyly by a slitted blue eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora puts it out of her mind for now, choosing instead to focus on the dazzling view of space from the fourth dimension as she settles in for the journey.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>It’s not her sleep cycle that beckons Catra back to her quarters. She is known to take small naps throughout the day—and she knows what her friends call them behind her back, though she detests how cute it sounds—but this is not one of those times. Right now, what Catra needs is time to think, to piece together what little information she and Melog have about the dark thing hiding in Adam’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door whispers closed behind Catra. On instinct, she scans the room for threats, starting behind her back, then under the desk, in the closet, in the bathroom, and finally under the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary—just Melog curled into a ball on top of the neatly made covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog chirps awake, their mane shifting from a neutral sky-blue to an affectionate pink when they see Catra. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, Catra. How was the portal jump?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, thanks,” Catra says as she sits down next to them and begins petting them idly. “I managed to stay pretty calm this time. So did Adora.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Adora ...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Melog mews, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I sense you feel uneasy about her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, I really can’t hide anything from you, huh?” Catra sighs. “Yeah, Adora didn’t really seem to want to believe me about Adam. She’s always been quick to trust people, but … I don’t know. I thought she would trust me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog hums apprehensively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You did not tell her about what we found?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra withdraws her hand from Melog’s mane and curls into herself slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I—I can’t. If she knew, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew that I snuck into Adam’s room, they’d think I was acting crazy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They do not understand your unique senses.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s kind of my fault, I guess.” Catra inspects her hand, still tingling slightly with the misty sensation of Melog’s magic. “I’ve never told anybody that I can sense magic. Even after that day with Razz when I found out I could do this, I just kept it to myself. It kind of … scares me, still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have no reason to be afraid, Catra.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Melog sits up and places a gentle paw on Catra’s shoulder, a calming purr rumbling from somewhere inside them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This ability is a natural part of you. To embrace it or ignore it is your choice alone, but it cannot hurt you or bring you suffering unless you seek such things out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra shrugs off Melog’s paw, bristling at their slightly patronizing tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. I’ll tell them eventually. Just not right now. Right now I just want to try to figure out what’s going on with Adam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog slips off the bed and strides leisurely over to the desk, where Adora keeps stacks of books and scrolls tucked away in a cubby. They trill inquisitively. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The presence we felt in Adam’s room sparked some memory in me. When his ancestors came to my home, their machines produced a similar feeling. They took the magic and used it to make unnatural things—artificial lights first, then weapons, computers, and spacecraft, like the one we sit in now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, he’s carrying some kind of tool or machine that runs on magic?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is possible, although the object’s pull is much stronger than anything I remember from Krytis.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra follows Melog to the desk and squats to examine the tomes in the compartment. Their faded spines are etched with the geometric script of the First Ones, with translations listed in Adora’s careful handwriting on pieces of tape. A title catches Catra’s eye among the books: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Principles of Magical Mechanics.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Curiosity seems to move Catra’s hands for her as she slides the volume out and lets it fall open in her palms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might be able to give us a clue. It looks like some kind of textbook.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s comprehension of the First Ones’ language is still elementary, but the informal lessons she’s gotten from Adora are enough that she can get the gist of the introduction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Magic … create …’ I think this says ‘energy’ or ‘power.’ Then, ‘Take magic …’ This word is either ‘across,’ ‘over,’ or ‘through’ … ‘Crystal.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes scan the page, encountering more and more technical words that she’s never learned until they land on one that she knows for certain: “‘Runestone.’ This says, ‘Biggest magic comes from runestone. Study …’ Or, maybe … ‘Science wants build runestone.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Build runestone …” she repeats, probing her thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slightly bitter memory fades into Catra’s consciousness: sitting in the Black Garnet chamber with Entrapta, watching her fiddle with simulations and models, frantically analyzing data gathered from the darkened runestone during the Battle of Bright Moon. Then, listening to the scientist explain something about an artificial runestone in an ancient volcanic city—and the subsequent attempt to steal the mysterious artifact that literally went down in flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra snaps the book shut in her hand. Melog gives a curious chirp, tilting their head with a wordless question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to Entrapta.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>After a while, the bending of infinite space becomes strangely boring to watch. Because really, it’s just space, but shaped weird. And Adora has seen plenty of space already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly after Catra excused herself from the bridge, Adam left, and Glimmer did too, saying something about needing to freshen up before tea. Now, just Adora and Bow remain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inevitably, Adora’s mind finds something to worry about. She thinks back on her conversation with Catra earlier that day, how fixated Catra seemed on this bad feeling she gets from Adam. Something about it just doesn’t make sense. It’s been over two years since the war ended, and Catra has been steadily improving ever since—working through trauma, learning to trust people, to be vulnerable. Since then, she hasn’t reacted to anyone the way she’s reacting to Adam now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora, for all she’s grown as well, can’t think of a way to approach the situation delicately. However, the thought occurs to her, she knows someone who could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bow,” says Adora as she approaches the helm, “Can I talk to you really quickly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow’s attention is pulled away from the shifting expanse outside the viewport. He checks something on his dashboard before smiling warmly up at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you noticed the way Catra is acting around Adam?” she asks in a hushed tone, despite being alone with her friend. “We talked this morning and she seems really … threatened by him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t noticed anything in particular, no,” Bow says thoughtfully, fiddling with the zipper on his bomber jacket. “You and Glimmer told her you’d keep an eye on him, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I have been, but I don’t think there’s anything up with him. He’s just kind of an intense guy. But Catra thinks he’s …” Adora huffs in frustration. “She thinks he’s hiding something really serious from us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Based on what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora shrugs and habitually pushes her hair back. “I don’t know. Her instincts, I guess. Feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Bow says. He begins nodding slowly. “I see what this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, what is it?” Adora demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing suspicious about Adam,” Bow explains calmly. “But being the only other Eternian we’ve ever met, he sort of represents your family, setting aside any possibility of you two being actually related. Family is important. Catra, being your childhood best friend and now girlfriend, is the closest you’ve ever had to family—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until now,” Adora finishes. Understanding begins to color her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow hums an affirmative. “I’d wager that Catra might be worried about Adam making your relationship less special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora scoffs. “Even if we’re not related, that’s gross. I’m not even into guys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no no, not like that,” says Bow frantically, waving both hands in front of him. “I just mean that you and Catra have been the single most important person in each other’s lives since you were kids. To have someone else show up and become important to you too, it can feel threatening for her. That’s sort of what happened when you left the Horde and met us. Obviously it’s not a zero-sum game, and you can both have as many close relationships as you want—like me and Glimmer—but if you’re both used to being each other’s one and only, Catra might interpret it that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora lets her head fall into her hands and groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Catra was supposed to be better now. Why is it always so difficult with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A firm hand pats Adora’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, you just gotta work through it. Use your words and be careful not to dismiss her feelings. You might be inclined to go on the defensive for Adam since he feels like family, but just listen to Catra first. Give her space to talk about her reservations, then help her break them down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Bow,” Adora breathes as she releases some tension from her shoulders. “I’ll keep all that in mind. You’re the best.” She wraps an arm around Bow’s shoulder and leans into him with her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you know me. I’m the friendship guy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora releases Bow from her side-hug and smiles lovingly at him. An indicator beeps on Bow’s control panel, and he turns his attention back to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re dropping out of the portal soon to recharge. Better get back to your seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora returns to her command chair and settles in again, staring back out into the flowing blackness of portal-space. For a moment, she finds herself once again appreciating how lucky she is to have such good friends in her life, always so willing to help her see past herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her moment doesn’t last long, though. The buzz of the portal generator drops in frequency and blue-green speckles of energy appear in the viewport, drawing forward and congealing into an open vortex through which can be seen their intermediate destination: the ruddy planet where they rescued Adam. In its orbit, the wreckage of a Galactic Horde cruiser still floats, but parts of it appear to have been stripped away—scavenged by another ship, now coming into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they lurch out of the portal, the vessel Adora sees makes her blood freeze in her veins. Easily three times as large as the destroyed cruiser, lined with turrets and cannons, tiny drone fighters swarming around it like wasps in a hive. Black and white and venomous green, a deadly spear ready to pierce the heart of whoever dared attack its little brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s hand flies to the intercom button and when she speaks, her voice shakes with fear and anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stations, everyone. We’ve got company.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You don't <i>have</i> to read "Maps" to understand Catra's magic sense. It just gives a little more context and description. The origin of Catra's ability will be explained in this fic, just sit tight!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Villains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hordak makes a choice. Someone gets hurt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>“Bow, keep us out of range and find cover,” Adora orders with a fire burning in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to the bridge opens with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>followed by four sets of frantic footsteps hurrying onto the deck. To her left and right, Adora glimpses Catra and Glimmer already preparing their respective stations. Entrapta enters as well, propelling herself up to the helm on her hair extensions to check in with Bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More Horde scum,” Adam growls as the door slides shut behind him. “But they shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for this crew, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fists tighten as she realizes what Adam is suggesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. We can’t, it’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was lucky we even landed a hit on them last time,” Catra interrupts coldly, “let alone in the right spot to blow their reactors. We don’t have the armament to go up against a ship that size, plus the drones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer cuts in, sounding frustrated. “Not to mention it would be unprovoked. We are not here to start a battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what, you’re just going to wait for them to destroy us?” Adam marches over to stand next to Adora, directing his arguments at her. “This is a solid ship, Adora, but even a glancing hit from one of those cannons will have us like fish in a barrel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora finds herself unable to respond, at once intimidated and persuaded by Adam’s ire. It’s true, they wouldn’t stand a chance, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t put up a fight. She’s momentarily paralyzed by the weight of the decision, but Bow’s steady voice brings her back from the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to wait. All we have to do is stay off their sensors while the portal drive cools and recharges. There’s a moon nearby, we can park there and power down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if they’ve already seen us?” Adora frets, but Catra looks to have a solution, standing up from her station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t. Melog,” Catra calls out into the air. On cue, the spectral cat materializes next to her, chirping in response. “Can you cloak us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog nods silently, then closes their eyes. The edges of their form blur until their wine-colored body has all but evaporated, releasing shimmers of magic into the air which cast a misty shadow over everything in view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora kicks herself. “How did we not think of that last time? Really could’ve saved us some trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t know,” Catra says with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” says Adora, “We’re safe. Bow, can you take us to that moon? I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow points the hidden ship towards a small hunk of silvery rock in the distance. Gently, they accelerate, the moon gradually growing larger in the viewport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A confused grunt from the defense station grabs Adora’s attention. Catra is mashing buttons on her control panel, getting only buzzes in response. She grips the control stick that operates the cannons and wrestles with it, pulls on it with both fists, but the guns don’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” asks Adora, panic already starting to set in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra turns with a grave look on her face. “Someone’s manually overriding the turret controls. They’re targeting the Horde ship. I can’t shut it down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crew all gasp, but none as loud as Entrapta. She whips around from where she was staring out the viewport, lifts herself up on her hair extensions and curls into herself anxiously. An awful look of realization crosses her face, and without a word she launches herself toward the door at full speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entrapta, wait! What’s happening?” Bow shouts, standing up from his seat and letting the ship guide itself momentarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The engineer halts at the door and turns around slowly, her eyes almost obscured by purple bangs but not enough to hide the fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Hordak,” she says with a tremor. “He’s trying to fix his mistakes.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Hordak</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Entrapta, an Etherian through and through, cannot possibly understand what this situation calls for. Her mind is clouded with irrational notions of family and belonging. She has only ever shown sympathy and compassion—weakness—for the clones of the Horde, Hordak especially. And why? Were they not brutally attacking, nearly destroying her home planet just two years ago? Had Hordak himself not personally destroyed her own family? Entrapta’s care for the clones—for him—is self-destructive. She must learn to recognize when habits have become harmful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why Hordak has stuffed himself down a tube and into the cramped turret that houses the twin ion cannons. The controls are repurposed from an old Etherian Horde tank, designed by Hordak himself some decades ago, enclosed in an inverted pyramid of gray steel to match the rest of the ancient ship. There are rectangular viewports on all sides, just big enough to sight a target and double-check the work of the computer. As Hordak peers out at the distant Horde starship and its plentiful fighter complement, he is once again struck with a great sense of irony; weapons forged to conquer in the name of the Horde, and the man who forged them, are now turned against the remnants of that once-mighty empire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this is what is right. Countless people have suffered at Hordak’s hands, and countless more at the hands of those he commanded. The only way to stop this—to fix the damage he has caused—is to make sure no clone can harm another person again. Entrapta may not be able to appreciate this point of view, but it’s exactly as she said: Hordak must do this because he knows it is right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The controls chirp to indicate the guns have warmed up, but Hordak could already tell from the way the barrels below him on either side are buzzing with pent-up energy. Hunched over in a tiny seat, he grabs the control stick to aim the cannons as a small screen in front of him blinks with green icons representing potential targets. Red crosshairs glide across the grid-lined display until they are centered on the largest icon: a glowing diamond, representing the command ship. Hordak taps the button on top of the control stick with his thumb, and the crosshairs blink twice and enclose themselves in a circle. He’s locked on to the target; all he has to do is pull the trigger—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hordak!” Entrapta’s desperate, cracking voice calls from the open hatch above. “Stop! You don’t have to do this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, Hordak looks up at the princess. She’s reaching down with an arm just too short to reach him, giving up, sending down one of her hair extensions instead. The violet tendril brushes his chest, pushing him back away from the controls gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hordak had known this would happen. He had planned this action very precisely, prepared for Entrapta’s sentimentality getting the best of her. He had known what she would say, and what he would say back. What he hasn’t prepared for is the way her deep pink eyes glisten, the pleading tone of her voice, the way the lights from the engineering deck cast her in a halo of fluorescence. She tugs at something in his chest that he can’t ignore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this not what you wanted?” Hordak begs, giving in to Entrapta’s pull—granting her a chance to stop him. “Is this not what you rebels do? These are the villains of your story, Entrapta, no different than I was. This is the only way to stop them from causing any more harm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like this! Not now!” cries Entrapta. “This isn’t why we’re here, Hordak, remember? We’re here for science, for discovery. To help people, not to fight a war!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you said—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I said was that you have to work. I meant work on yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice grows quiet as Hordak feels a tear fall down the shaft and wet his cheek. It’s futile, but Entrapta still reaches down with an open hand, begging him to take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Learn to do things for the right reasons. Please. For me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hordak looks back out the tiny viewport again, the distant command ship suspended above an insignificant planet. Within it, a thousand or more beings who look exactly like him, all of them complicit in the terror he once helped spread across this galaxy. All of them capable of the exact same evils as he, who tore apart the family of the only person he’s ever truly cared for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning back up to look at Entrapta again, Hordak sees how simple her heart truly is—all noble ideals and unwavering compassion. A princess to the bitter end. He hates that he knows she will forgive him for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you, Entrapta. I’m sorry,” says Hordak with all the remorse he has in him. He grips the controls and with a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>click,</span>
  </em>
  <span> pulls the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Two unstoppable, fiery beams issue from Darla’s turret toward the gargantuan command ship in the distance. Without sound or vibration, one shot makes contact with a drone fighter, reducing it to a cloud of dust in a flash. The other finds no obstacles in its way as it careens toward the hull of the menacing monochrome spear—and narrowly misses, just above its target. The energy beam disappears into vacuous space, leaving the Horde ship with just a char mark across its gleaming white deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching helplessly as the ion cannons unleash their fury, a numbing chill comes over Catra, the kind that makes her very bones shiver. Some distant part of her notices that the Horde ship is turning toward them, sending its drones ahead to retaliate, but the panic is drowned out by an overwhelming sense of hollowness, emptiness, like there’s a dark pit where her stomach should be. It’s then that she realizes that Melog’s shimmering haze has evaporated from the room. In the back of her mind, where she normally feels the creature’s presence as a calming salve, she now feels their absence, the sharp cold of anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s vision blurs as she stands up from her station and searches the bridge frantically for her companion. Echoes of her friends’ voices barely make it to her ears. Her eyes land on a dark gray heap lying on the deck, motionless, and she’s crying before her knees hit the floor. Melog’s colorful mane and tail have practically vanished, faint outlines floating in their place, barely visible. There’s no color in their eyes or their skin. Their magic, normally felt as droplets of metaphysical dew against Catra’s skin, is dried up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melog?” Catra pleads, “Melog, please!” She lays her head against their cold body, tears running down her cheeks. “What’s happening?! Where are you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra lifts her head just enough to see Adora, standing in front of her chair speechless with a hand clasped over her mouth. Nobody else is speaking or moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora, you have to heal them,” says Catra. “Please, you have to try!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora lowers her hand and sets her jaw, restrained tears barely visible hanging on her eyelashes. She nods, then orders, “Bow, get us out of here as fast as you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She approaches slowly as the ship lurches into motion, drops to her knees at Catra’s side, and closes a fist in front of her chest. The Sword of Protection materializes parallel to her body and without a word, Adora blazes golden and white as she transforms into She-Ra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She-Ra lays a hand on Melog’s head and magic begins to sizzle around the edges of her form. Her shining hair floats on an intangible wind, her armor reflects lights from beyond reality, but nothing seems to be reaching the injured creature in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not working,” says She-Ra under her breath, tired and frustrated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unexpected anger takes hold of Catra’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Adora! You have to keep trying! Don’t they mean anything to you? Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean anything to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost immediately, She-Ra flickers out of existence, leaving Adora staring back at Catra with an all-too-familiar broken look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra …” she begins, but before she can say anything, Catra is pushing herself off the deck and running for the door. Adora shouts after her, but Catra is too far gone to turn back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The part of her she thought was long gone, the fear and anger, claws and teeth, has returned. Was Melog really all that was stopping from hurting the people she loves again? Has she really not changed at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra finds the door to her quarters and shuts herself in, locking it behind her. She doesn’t know what she’ll do; all she knows is that she can’t let anybody near her. It’s too dangerous—she’s too dangerous.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Adora wipes her eyes as she watches the door that Catra just ran through, praying for it to open again, for her to come back—but she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve played this game countless times before. Catra lashes out, runs away and hides, and Adora finds her. Sometimes they’re kids and it’s in a storage closet or under a blanket in the Fright Zone. Sometimes they’re on the cusp of adulthood and it’s on the opposite side of a battlefield or aboard a cold starship at the center of an empire. The only reason it hurts so much this time is that Adora thought they were done running from each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks over her shoulder at Glimmer, standing behind her and wringing her hands nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s any help,” says the queen shyly, “I can try talking to her. You know how we have kind of a … thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, comforted somewhat by Glimmer’s gesture. It’s good to be reminded she’s not the only one Catra can turn to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Glim. But I think you might be needed here,” Adora says, glancing briefly at a very occupied and clearly stressed Bow. “And this is … I have to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer nods. “I understand. Just,” she pauses as she approaches Adora and lays a soft hand on her shoulder, “remember that it’s not your fault. And it’s not hers, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Adora sighs, meeting Glimmer’s hand with her own and giving a gentle squeeze. Glimmer walks back to her station, and Adora returns her attention to Melog’s cold, unmoving form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to do this,” she says under her breath, “For Catra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once more, Adora pushes the warm glow of love from her heart out to her right hand, and the Sword of Protection shimmers into existence in her palm. She-Ra’s magic radiates outward, enveloping her body in every color of light. All her senses flicker like screens overloaded in a power surge, and when they return, she feels the strength and size of She-Ra’s body surrounding her spirit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora releases the sword and it fades into thin slivers of golden light, then to nothing. She reaches down to Melog with both of She-Ra’s massive glowing hands, placing one on their head and the other where she imagines a heart might be, if their anatomy works that way. She-Ra’s skin electrifies with magic, her muscles ache, and Adora’s soul yearns to be with Catra again, for Catra to be happy. To give her that golden wing pin from Adora’s vest. To be home, safe, in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like thick sap dripping down the trunk of a tree, She-Ra’s magic spreads out onto Melog’s skin. It’s faint, but Adora can feel their essence now: a comforting cool, like condensation on a glass of ice water in the heat. She focuses on it, drawing from She-Ra’s endless well of power to strengthen the injured creature’s soul. Slowly, Melog’s spirit grows and grows until it mingles with She-Ra’s at the places where she’s touching their skin. Together, they glow an incandescent white as magic mends itself and brings life back into Melog’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She-Ra’s light dissipates as Melog begins to move again, Adora lifting her own much smaller hands off of them. Their mane and tail fill with a warm yellow color and they open their eyes to Adora’s relieved expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” asks Adora in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog simply gives one slow blink. Adora has known that expression her whole life; it means something like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I trust you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora can’t stop herself from crying with relief—and profound exhaustion. The healing process has never been easy, but something about healing Melog’s magic must have taken something extra from her. Giving the spectral cat a once-over, Adora notices something subtly different about their deep purple skin. It now seems to glisten when it catches the light, like tiny threads of gold have been woven into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s thoughts inevitably return to Catra and the way she was once healed in the exact same spot on the floor of the bridge. Now, she must be cowering somewhere in the ship’s belly— scared, angry, or both. Assured of Melog’s well-being, Adora pushes herself off the floor with sore arms and sore legs and sore everything. She may be tired, but there’s still something she has to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops just as the door slides open in front of her and looks back at her friends: Bow, still at the helm and sweating profusely as he wrestles with the controls; Glimmer, standing over his shoulder and gripping his arm like a lifeline; and Adam, finding a seat at the empty defense station. Catra’s absence stings. She has to fix this.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The bedroom is the first place Adora thinks to look. It’s where Catra would hide if she wanted to be found. Adora can only hope that’s the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knocks politely on the cold metal door, assuming that if Catra were inside she would like a warning. Hearing no response, she places her hand on the touchpad next to the door, but it flashes red—locked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do not disturb.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catra?” Adora calls, hoping she can be heard through the layers of alloy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart jumps at the sound she hears: Catra’s voice, muffled but still clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away, Adora.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the expected response, the natural next step in this dance they both know too well. It’s frustrating, always has been, always will be. But it’s Catra. Adora stands her ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere, Catra,” she says, trying to sound stern but loving at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” says Catra, though Adora can barely hear her now. She’s hardly whispering; there’s a brokenness in her voice that tugs at Adora’s heart in a way she can’t bear. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That just about shatters Adora. She turns around and leans against the door, blown off balance by the weight of the realization: Catra isn’t shutting herself in because she’s frustrated with Adora or scared for Melog—it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>herself</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she’s afraid of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s back slides down the door as she lets her legs give out. There she sits on the landing outside her and Catra’s bedroom, waiting. She has to show Catra that there’s nothing to fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right here,” says Adora, unsure if Catra can hear her, though she says it mostly for herself. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Bow</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>“Three marks at one-nine-two!” calls Glimmer from her station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow reacts almost immediately, thrusting the control sticks down and to the left to avoid the drones. He spares a glance at his screen and sees them: behind the blue diamond that represents </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla,</span>
  </em>
  <span> three red triangles approach at speed from about 7 o’clock. Somewhere behind them, Bow knows, the command ship lurks ever closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see ‘em,” Bow grunts as he wrestles the stabilizers to pull the ship into a spiral. “Adam, any luck with the defense controls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve taken a couple hits, but the shields are holding for now. No telling how long that will last.” A beat of silence filled with the sounds of effort, then, “But … It looks like the manual override is still in place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow curses under his breath, then quickly taps the intercom button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entrapta, are you there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s static on the line. He calls her name again, hoping that whatever happened with Hordak didn’t leave Entrapta hurt, or worse. Finally, she comes in, though her voice sounds tearful and tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m here. What do you need?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell Hordak,” he winces at the fact that they have to rely on the clone who just got them into this mess, “Tell Hordak he needs to keep those fighters off our tail. We’re going to try to get the jamming signal loaded again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta’s sigh is audible over the intercom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” says Bow. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s alright. I’m on it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The line clicks as Entrapta hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to business. Bow lets the ship level out, having put some distance between </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her pursuers. Thankfully, the thulite reactor is nominal and both thrusters are working at full efficiency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glimmer, can you get the jamming signal loaded?” Bow calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes glued to the viewport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working on it, but it’ll take a couple minutes,” says Glimmer. Her voice is steady; Bow feels a little more collected for it. “Just keep them away from the comms array!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re locking onto the drones,” says Adam from the defense station. Almost simultaneously, the floor under Bow’s feet shudders with another volley from the ion cannons. Two of the three red triangles on his screen blink out of existence. But as the hydra’s heads are severed, four more take their place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More fighters at two-seven-zero,” Glimmer announces frantically, “And they’re coming in from above.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The calculations run themselves in Bow’s head faster than he would be able to say them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strap in, guys. This might get a little dicey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trusting his shipmates to take their safety in their hands, Bow doesn’t wait to slam one of the control sticks to the left as far as it will go. The stabilizers push back, but he pushes harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> gives in and banks counterclockwise; the starry expanse in the viewport spins a full hundred and eighty degrees, taking the communications array out of the drones’ sights—and putting them face-to-face with the cannons. More shots fire off and rattle the ship. Three of the bogeys drop off the screen and the other two begin peeling off of formation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost ready,” says Glimmer. “We need to get within range of the command ship. Entrapta said if we take it offline, all the drones will come down too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it!” Bow says as he pulls </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> into a tight U-turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just as she’s leveling off, an impact rocks the ship and sends her into a sickening tailspin. The harmony of her engines is interrupted with sputtering, dissonant tones. Bow struggles with the control sticks, managing to get her straight again, but an alarm blares out from his control panel. On the drive schematic display, the starboard-side thruster blinks bright red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the damage, Adam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam groans, recovering from the nauseating maneuver, then reports, “One hit, direct to the starboard coupling. The shield absorbed most of it but it was still close enough to do some damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Bow,” Glimmer says nervously, “More fighters. Dead ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sure enough, three black-and-white needles are flying straight towards them. Panicking, Bow pushes the nose down just as the fighters get within range. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> responds sluggishly and barely avoids a flash of green across the bridge as she dives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow slams the intercom button. “Entrapta! We lost the starboard thruster, can you fix it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I—I don’t know,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> says the engineer. Bow’s never heard her this dejected, not even on Beast Island. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll try.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do what you can, okay?” Bow responds as calmly as he can manage. “It’ll be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line clicks off without another word. Whatever happened down there was enough to bring down even Entrapta, one of the most enthusiastic people he knows. It can’t be good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chooses not to think about it too much as he pulls the ship back up slowly, pointing the nose at the Horde ship that’s now close enough that he can see its guns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> is crawling at about half her normal speed, but it will have to be enough. More fighters come into view as they creep closer, and red bolts from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> ion cannons begin flying off left and right. Bow watches drones get vaporized like awful fireworks in an infinite night sky, specks of fire dissipating into blackness and mingling with the distant stars. It would be beautiful if it weren’t also terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just about to get in range of the command ship,” says Bow. “Is the jamming signal ready, Glim?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a series of beeps from Glimmer’s console, then, “Ready!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bow huffs. “Here goes nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rods of deadly green light fly past the viewport as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> heads for the enormous starship in front of them. The topside of its sweeping, pointed hull gleams white, with faded green Horde wings displayed proudly on its flanks. Bow aims for the black-painted underbelly, a great, knife-like keel running along the length of the hull. He’ll have to cut incredibly close to avoid fire from the turrets, already taking their aim at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> from several points along the ship. The closer they get, the faster they seem to go, and the hull of the command ship blurs into black and green smudges above them as they make their run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hit it, Glimmer!” calls Bow. A buzz from the comms station, a few seconds of anticipation, and then—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights flashing against the command ship’s hull all go dark at once. From </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> bridge, Bow can hear it creaking as it begins succumbing to the gravity of the nearby planet, drifting off to the side and down. A proximity alert blares from the control panel. Bow pulls hard to port to get out of the way, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> still won’t move fast enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone brace!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of Bow’s muscles tense in anticipation of a collision, but it doesn’t come. Instead, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> jolts and rockets forward, past at least a hundred disabled drone fighters and toward the faraway moon. He glances down at his control panel and, what do you know—the starboard thruster is back online at full capacity. Entrapta did it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow can’t stop himself from cheering as the adrenaline rush finally catches up with him. He unstraps himself from his seat, rushes over to Glimmer and hoists her into the air for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see that?!” says Bow as he finally releases Glimmer’s reddened lips. She stares at him, wide-eyed and proud. “We did that! We took down a whole command ship and a fighter squadron!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And nobody died!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody died!” Bow repeats as he sets down his girlfriend. He squeezes her against his chest once more for good luck, runs his fingers through the short pink hair on the back of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate to interrupt your moment,” says Adam, startling Bow. “I’ll admit, it was pretty impressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow turns to Adam, blushing slightly. “Thanks, uh … Thanks, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam cocks his head, blonde hair loosely swishing around his neck. “Don’t you have a ship to pilot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!” says Bow, embarrassed, and he stumbles back to the helm to guide </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> to safety.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Entrapta</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>Entrapta pushes herself out of the access hatch and falls to the floor of the hallway. Behind her, thrusters hum happily along, their power supply rerouted through the auxiliary conduits. She folds her mask up and wipes sweat off her brow with the back of her glove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t register at first that in front of her stands a pair of black boots, gray coveralls concealing their tops. Her eyes slide upward exhaustedly to find Hordak, his ears drooping and eyebrows held together with confusion and sadness. His mouth opens as if about to speak, but nothing comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hair extensions, sullied with grease, lift Entrapta up to stand. She looks Hordak in the eyes, searching him for something—a real apology, or at least an admission. But she stops herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this right now,” says Entrapta simply. She turns away, heads down the corridor and sinks down into the engineering deck.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can you tell I was watching Star Wars when I wrote this chapter?</p><p>Next chapter we'll be heading to a new location (Empyria, finally), and meeting some new characters! Get hyped.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Settlement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Catra plays darts. Bow gets an urban planning lecture. The gang eats some crudités with Adam’s parents.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <em>
    <span>Catra</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>As headaches go, this one is familiar. Catra’s acquaintance with it is almost comforting, really. It’s the kind of headache she gets from crying until her voice goes raw, curling up and squeezing her eyes shut to block out the universe. The barest hint of her childhood lullaby squeaks out from between her lips as Catra lies on the bed, sheets clenched in her fists. Her tears have all dried up now, though sobs still occasionally rack her body, disrupting the comforting song with staccato breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still hasn’t been able to entertain even the hint of a thought of what just happened. Melog was dead. They lay on the floor, motionless, colorless, cold. And without them, Catra’s claws came out immediately and lashed at Adora’s tender heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s going to have to deal with it eventually, of course. There’s nowhere to run on this ship; for all </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> monumental size, there are surprisingly few places for Catra to secret herself away. But for now, the bedroom will do as her makeshift cage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s vision is bleary as she opens her eyes, the soft lights hung from the ceiling blurring into yellowish smudges. She’s gotten used to the emptiness of Melog’s absence now, almost doesn’t notice it, but she still feels a chill in her chest. She sits up and stretches, yawns, rubs her eyes—sees a dark purplish figure sitting politely on the floor, rubs her eyes again. The figure almost doesn’t register with her until they let out a happy trill.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, Catra. I’m happy to see your face again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Melog!” Catra exclaims as relief brings new tears to her eyes. She pounces off the bed and practically tackles them, wrapping her arms around their mane and feeling their lively magic once again. “What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When the cannons fired,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Melog explains as Catra commences looking their body over for injuries, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my magical field was still stretched over the ship. As magic is my life force, when the guns damaged it, it became too weak to keep my body alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something subtly different about Melog’s magic now, Catra notices. Where before it was a cool and tingling mist, it’s now warmer and slightly thicker, more like humidity. Tiny shimmers of gold fleck the deep tint of their skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She-Ra healed you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog chirps affirmatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She healed me once, too. I was nearly gone and she … Adora brought me back,” says Catra, barely holding herself together at the memory. “How does it feel for you? Does it hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melog presses their head into Catra’s palm; their mane tickles her hand with dim yellow sparks of magic. Feelings trickle through their empathic connection into Catra’s mind: comfort, safety, strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is different from the way she heals others, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Melog mews.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Since I am a creature of magic, she must have had to touch my magical essence directly. I feel it has altered my nature somewhat. I believe She-Ra has given a part of herself to me. I hold her within. She sustains me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra examines her hand where it meets Melog’s head. Isn’t it just like Adora to give away little pieces of herself so the ones she loves can be happy?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She is waiting for you, you know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This pulls Catra’s attention to the locked metal door to their quarters. If she closes her eyes, she can probably feel Adora behind it, but she doesn’t need to. Catra stands, slightly unsteady still, and moves to unlock the door. She places a hand on the touchpad and the panels slide open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora shrieks as the wall disappears from behind her and she falls flat on the floor. Her hair is messy, like she’s been anxiously running fingers through it all this time, strewn out around her head like a halo of wheatgrass. Blue eyes wide open, she gasps, “Catra!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Adora,” says Catra with all her love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crouches down, staring at Adora’s stupid, handsome, upside-down face with her pretty, pink, upside-down lips. Adora stares right back with surprise and relief written all over her features. With not so much as a word, Adora reaches up, threads her fingers through Catra’s thick curls, and pulls her down into a kiss. It’s the kind that says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re such a pain in the ass, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but also, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank Etheria you’re okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Catra is happy to return the sentiment, lingering briefly on Adora’s lip as she pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little worry pulls at Catra’s throat as she whispers, “Everything is okay, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora nods emphatically. “As long as you’re here,” she says softly.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<h3>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
</h3><p>
  <span>The final leg of the journey to Empyria doesn’t take as long, or at least doesn’t feel as long. Adora spends most of it glued to Catra’s side, at first in their bedroom and then on the bridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the moment, Adora is sitting on the floor, cushioned by the embroidered pillow that normally sits on the command chair. She’s bracketed on either side by the elegant calves of her girlfriend, who is stationed at her normal defense controls, although she isn’t paying them any attention right now. Instead, Catra is tossing darts at the board while Adora looks on and waits her turn. There’s none of their usual competitive teasing right now—just a gentle, affectionate game of needle-tipped projectiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Catra is lining up her last shot, there’s a few peeps from the helm. “Coming up on Empyria,” Bow says as he flicks some switches in preparation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora runs her hand sneakily up the leg of Catra’s jumpsuit, carding fingers through the fine hair and sending up a wave of goosebumps. The tide of shivers reaches Catra’s hand just as she flicks the dart, and she misses spectacularly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not fair,” says Catra, leaning down to press her lips behind Adora’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora cranes her head around to meet Catra’s mouth. They kiss, then she whispers, “I said I’d play with you, I didn’t say I’d play fair.” She springs up, triumphant. “I’d better strap back in for our landing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Captain Dumbass,” Catra drawls, “go get your strap on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora barely stifles a giggle as she leans down to steal another kiss, then Catra gets off another whispered remark: “It was fun distracting you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We really need to get you some new one-liners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scooping up her frilly pillow from the ground, Adora walks back to the captain’s chair with a spring in her step, despite her exhaustion. She fluffs the cushion in the seat, then sinks into it with satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam re-enters the bridge with the bravado of a general returning from war. It doesn’t quite match the tiny fold-up seat that he straps into, but he makes it work somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really excited for you all to see Empyria. It’s a beautiful place,” Adam declares. “We’ll pay a quick visit to my family and get your ship re-supplied, then we’ll get back underway to the next inhabited world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s breath catches in her throat at the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>family.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She swivels around a little too enthusiastically, and asks, “What family do you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looks startled by the question, but not surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just my mother and father.” He raises a fawn-colored eyebrow at her. “I guess your family is probably somewhere on Empyria too. Do you want to stay a while and look for them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Adora stutters, “No, thanks. I’m—I’m alright.” She turns the chair back around quickly, catching a weird look from Catra on the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Adora doesn’t want to meet her parents if they’re alive on Empyria. It’s just that something about looking for them on purpose feels cheap, like if she were meant to be reunited with them, they should just be waiting for her at the landing pad. From what she knows of Adam, these modern Eternians are much more like her old idea of what the First Ones were, or were supposed to be: heroes out of an epic, an underground resistance, the sole survivors of a society long thought dead. Adam’s parents sent their son on a space pilgrimage </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>for crying out loud. These people have to be serious badasses. Shouldn’t serious badasses be able to find their (also seriously badass, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank-you-very-much)</span>
  </em>
  <span> long-lost daughter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But something inside Adora is still absolutely burning with the desire to know who brought her into the universe. It’s as if, should she just learn this one final thing about her past, she would know everything there is to know about this person called Adora. She might finally know who she really, truly is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go,” Bow announces, “Coming out of the portal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On all sides of the thick plexiglass canopy, oddly bending, star-filled space is shot through with bolts of aquamarine luminescence as the portal yawns open for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Through the void, a planet is visible, but it isn’t at all what Adora was expecting. It’s a great, wispy, red marble, streaked with brilliant yellows and bluish greens like watercolor strokes. No visible land masses or bodies of water—it’s a gas giant. Even from this distance, it’s so huge that Adora barely notices several moons in its orbit, until one of them catches her eye with a silvery glint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Adora says, unable to stifle her wonderment. “This is Empyria? Where’s the settlement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, technically,” says Adam matter-of-factly, like this kind of celestial beauty is just normal for him, “the settlement is on Patria, one of the three moons. But we just call the whole thing Empyria since the planet and the other two moons—Gloria and Victoria—are uninhabitable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra scoffs quietly. “Very subtle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, the names?” Adam chuckles. “My ancestors were devoted to their ideals, so they tended to name beautiful things after virtues and heroes. It’s really poetic, if you ask me,” he says admiringly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shrill chime from the comms station interrupts their planet-gazing, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> digital voice: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Incoming Transmission, Two-Way.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! They’re hailing us,” says Adam. “Open the channel, I’ll talk to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer shoots him a stubborn glare, then hits a button on her panel. A collected, professional voice speaks in dignified high tones through the garbled comm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Unidentified craft, this is Empyria Port Control. Please state your designation and port of call, over.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam starts to unstrap himself, but before he gets there, Glimmer puts on her diplomat voice. “Empyria Port Control, this is Etherian Alliance Ship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla, </span>
  </em>
  <span>from, uh … Etheria.” She glances back at Adora, looking for guidance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say ‘over!’” Adora whisper-yells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Glimmer hesitates, “Over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not on our schedule …  Darla. Do you have a landing code? Over.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The queen looks back at Adora with quiet panic, which then changes to indignity as Adam leans over her panel from the side, blocking her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Port, this is Adam Randor,” he says confidently. “I was supposed to return with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seamstress </span>
  </em>
  <span>last week, but I … crashed. These nice people rescued me. Let them land please, there’s royalty aboard. Landing code alpha-one-six-one-phi, over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s dead air on the other end, then the voice says with much more familiarity, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Adam, your mother has been calling the spaceport every day. She’s worried sick. You really need to be more careful. Over.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam groans. “Hi, Tila. Nice to see you too. Now, are you going to let us land, or am I going to have to talk to your boss? Over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m the only one who works here, Adam.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A few clicks and beeps come through the comm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Cleared to land at pad beta-seven. Don’t crash again. Over and out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Polite as ever. Thanks, Ti. Over and out.” The blonde boy leans back from the comms station and sighs. “Sorry for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but some of my people are a little suspicious of outsiders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer examines Adam, clearly intrigued. “That person sounded like more than just some of your people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam turns away and approaches the helm. “Tila, yeah, she’s …” he trails off. “We went to school together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is First Ones school like? Do they have uniforms?</span>
  </em>
  <span> nearly jumps out of Adora’s mouth, but she stays her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Bow says with slight urgency, “Are you going to tell me where pad beta-seven is? I don’t even know which moon you live on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His question is answered with a finger pointed out the viewport at one of the moons, dark purple and craggy with several shining domes on it. The domes, Adora realizes as they approach, are transparent, and full of green—trees. Life. She’s almost embarrassed to admit how excited she is to see some actual living plants again after three and a half months of eating canned, frozen, or dehydrated leaf matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spaceport comes into view as a huge gray cylinder on the surface, just off of one of the domes. It’s the approximate shape of a can of tuna, if tuna was as big as ten spaceships. Around the circumference are several sets of massive circular doors, each rimmed with blinking red lights. Or at least Adora presumes so—many of the lights are flickering or not blinking at all, and she notices one of the bays is stuck open, slack-jawed. Like so many ancient structures left by her people on Etheria, it seems the spaceport is in dire need of some maintenance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rocky satellite draws closer. Empyria’s gracefully storming mass looms over the ship until it takes up the entire view from the bridge. On their final approach, one of the giant pairs of doors, labeled ‘B-7’ in weathered paint, begins to creak open as its remaining signal lights flash green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spaceport swallows the ship into a dark tube, which slowly begins lighting its gray walls with rows of blue-tinged electric lamps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla</span>
  </em>
  <span> angles herself upward until vertical becomes horizontal, and Adora catches a glimpse of one of the other moons of Empyria—its surface a deep green, like some of the oceans back home—through the bay doors as they crawl shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their descent slows and slows until, with a dull </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ship comes to rest. Around the bridge, safety harnesses click open in a messy unison. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Refreshingly uneventful landing,” Bow says as he flips some switches to power down the ship. “Now who’s ready to see our first </span>
  <em>
    <span>alien settlement?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow leaps from his seat and twirls around, clearly expecting his excitement to be reflected by his friends. He is instead met with some tired mumbles, and Adora’s best attempt at a “Woohoo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Adora isn’t ecstatic at the prospect of seeing how other people in the galaxy live. It’s just that these </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>other people—they’re about to see how Adora herself could have lived, had she not been stolen by destiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Entrapta coming?” Adora asks as Bow steps into the airlock next to her. Thankfully, there won’t be any environmental suits this time, so the archer wears some nicely pressed blue slacks, heart-emblazoned sneakers, a modestly cropped shirt, and his everyday blue bomber jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t find her,” Bow says, his face twisting up slightly with worry. “I think she’s in her room. She must still be a little shaken up. Probably best to let her stay with the ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer and Catra walk in then, Catra in her dark red shirt—sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned only at the top—and black pants with gold accents. Professional, but still enough to make Adora’s heart rate jump a little. She’s the picture of a royal advisor next to her queen, who wears a lavender suit and sky-blue blouse to complement her tiara, a rare sight since they left Etheria. The badge of the Alliance shines on Glimmer’s lapel with a mirror finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora begins to feel a little embarrassed that she couldn’t quite dress for the occasion; she tugs at her plain white shirt to relieve any wrinkles, buttons the vest up and straightens out her pin, but it’s still clear that she just hopped off a starship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, Adora?” says Catra, ears perking up playfully as she picks up on Adora’s insecurity. “Starting to regret packing light?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow comes to her defense. “I think Adora and I are dressed very practically, thank you very much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. The crop top, known for its practicality,” Glimmer teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow blushes and crosses his arms over his exposed stomach. “It’s breathable and flexible,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last to join them in the airlock is Adam, still in his pinkish tunic and white undershirt. There’s a definite funk about him, and Adora wonders if anyone mentioned to him how to operate the shower or the laundry machine. He carries a small brown duffel slung over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you weren’t expecting a royal welcome,” he says, batting some dust off his tunic. “Diplomacy is a lost art here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra was watching him uneasily before, but at this, her eyes narrow and her ears fold down with suspicion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as we’re not getting shot at or bombed, I think we’ll be fine,” Glimmer says, nonplussed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The airlock door creaks open. The landing pad, with its black asphalt floor and huge dark gray walls, is awash with artificial white light of various tones. It’s purely utilitarian, nothing like the First Ones structures Adora is used to on Etheria. Really, it reminds her more of the Fright Zone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora is the first to walk down the gangplank, followed by Glimmer, Bow, Adam, then Catra. At the gently curved wall ahead, a wide set of rectangular doors slides open with all the squeaky urgency of an injured turtle. In the doorway stands a man, pale-skinned, broad-shouldered, and tall—just an inch shy of Adam. His hair is several shades lighter and nearly gray, trimmed short like the dark beard that adorns his lip and jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer marches confidently up to the front of the group. The fabric of her suit glitters ever so slightly in the fluorescent lighting. As they get close enough to see the man’s pale blue eyes, Adora notes his firm stance: parade rest, with hands behind his back, his bushy, dark eyebrows furrowed and mouth set into a thin line framed by his beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon,” the queen proclaims as she arrives in front of the serious-looking man, “Grand Ambassador and Head Regent of the Royal Etherian Alliance. We come in peace on behalf of the kingdoms of Etheria.” She holds her arm straight out, palm turned to the side in greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man lifts Glimmer’s hand gently, bends forward and kisses one of her rings. His voice rings out like smooth steel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty. My name is Adrian Randor. I serve on the council here on Empyria.” He straightens up, and a golden pip in the shape of a flaming torch glints on the high collar of his simple brown shirt. “I apologize for the lack of a formal welcome. The other councillors were … hesitant to arrange a ceremony on such short notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s perfectly understandable, Councillor. We certainly weren’t expecting to find ourselves here, either,” says Glimmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” Adrian says, and Adora thinks she sees a slight frown at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose thanks are in order. Adam,” he says, addressing the boy with a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father,” replies Adam, and the realization hits Adora hard enough to make her wonder if she really is brain-damaged, after all these years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer examines the councillor’s face, then looks back at Adam, then back at Adrian. “Oh! Oh. You two are … Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you rescued my chronically truant son. For that, you have my gratitude.” Adrian meets Adora’s eyes briefly, then says with a curious tone, “I believe some more introductions are needed, Your Majesty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yes. Uh,” the queen looks back at Adora, slightly unsure, then says, “Go ahead …?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian approaches Adora first, his small height advantage becoming larger as he looms. Adora looks up at him; cold sweat beads on her back. “Hi, Councillor,” she begins, then clears her throat for a more confident chest voice. “I’m Adora, I’m—uh, I’m Queen Glimmer’s … Defense Minister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not technically a lie, though that’s not the role she’s supposed to be playing here. Tired as she is, she just doesn’t feel very much like She-Ra right now. Glimmer raises an eyebrow at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian brings his right arm to bear, bent at the elbow, poised for a handshake. Adora takes it cautiously, then finds his grip firm and strengthens her own. She shakes Adrian’s hand maybe a little too vigorously, like one might shake a can of soda intended for use as an explosive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure. You can dispense with the titles, Minister Adora. Please just call me Adrian.” He breaks off the handshake decisively with a satisfied smile, and Adora rubs her bicep a little through her shirt. She chuckles awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you too, Adrian,” Adora manages, then the man moves on to greet the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something disquieting in the way Adrian looks at her, Adora realizes. It feels like he’s looking for something, like she’s an artifact being examined for clues as to her origin and purpose. It rings terribly similar to the way she was once examined by four glowing green eyes in the middle of a cavernous inner sanctum. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A face I’ve not seen in a thousand years.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora barely manages to stop the memory from choking her out. The edges of her vision start turning black, so she picks a point on the back of Glimmer’s head to focus on—a little mole, half-hidden under the shorn pink hair near her neck—and breathes until the suffocating feeling leaves her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes have passed; Adrian has finished his greetings, and now stands in front of them again. He motions to follow him down the corridor, its walls the same blank gray lit by the same dull electric lights. The atmosphere reflects the haze Adora feels around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A skiff hovers parked near the wall down the corridor. It’s not like the old repurposed Horde skiffs Adora is used to on Etheria; its design is much more pedestrian, a simple, open-topped metal box with two seats at the controls and six more facing each other in the rear. Its white paint is scratched and chipped all over—scars from a long life of use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian opens the door at the back of the vehicle and politely bows for Glimmer as she steps in. He follows, and seats himself at the controls, followed by Adam next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My wife and I are happy to host you,” says Adrian as the rest of the crew find their seats. He flips a switch on the dashboard and the engine sputters to life, filling the corridor with a burbling whine. Over the noise, Adrian says, “I’ll speak to the council about getting your ship resupplied as thanks for finding Adam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skiff glides at a leisurely pace down the corridor, the rows of lights blurring slowly into a line. Adora glances at the driver’s seat again, at Adrian and Adam—father and son. Adam taps his father’s shoulder, who then leans sideways to hear Adam whisper something conspiratorially. Adrian looks at him incredulously, then sneaks a sidelong glance at Adora and swiftly faces front again. The interaction, although brief, sets Adora’s gut alight with anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the corridor empties out into a vast circular atrium with more corridors leading out in every direction. Through the largest of them, white light shines at the end—not artificial, Adora realizes, but the natural light of a star. The skiff curves gently towards the bright opening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora spares a look at Catra, seated across from her. She’s watching Adrian and Adam nervously, her ears angled toward them and pupils focused. She catches Adora out of the corner of her sapphire eye, then turns to make eye contact with her. Grave distrust is written on her face to complement the fatigued uneasiness on Adora’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end of the daylit corridor comes faster than expected. Adora’s eyes are assaulted with refracted and reflected light from the nearby star through the dome, but when she regains her vision, it feels like she’s seeing for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surface of the moon settlement is green as far as the eye can see. Grasses and flowers carpet every foot of open space on either side of the path. Trees shade everything, huge and straight as giant toothpicks with canopies that glow from the sunlight. In front of the skiff, a road stretches out, wide enough for about two skiffs to pass each other. Set back from the street are rows of buildings with rounded walls and windows, rendered in every color of the rainbow. More roads branch off from the one they’re on every so often, and other skiffs fly past. The glimpses of glass sky that Adora catches are tinted slightly blue, but still filled with stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Objectively, it’s beautiful, Adora knows that. But at the same time, she gets used to her surroundings very quickly. There’s a sort of concealed sameness, an underlying monotony to the whole place. It quickly starts to feel, to Adora’s surprise, normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skiff takes a gentle turn onto a smaller street with walking paths on either side. Along the paths, Adora sees what she supposes are her first Eternian strangers: humans of all sorts going about their daily lives, popping into storefronts or walking with children or arriving at their houses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gradually, the skiff slows until they reach what feels like a clearing. It’s an open space, a green commons bounded on all sides by buildings. The road leads to the middle of the square, and terminates in a circular lot with more identical skiffs parked around its edge. Adrian deftly pilots the vehicle into an empty space, shuts it off, and stands from his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, friends,” Adrian says, smiling beatifically, “to the Empyria Settlement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps out of the rear door and holds it open patiently as everyone else exits the vehicle. Once disembarked, he begins walking backward down a path leading away from the lot, through the park.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is one of our many residential zones,” Adrian explains. “Everything we need on a weekly basis can be found right here, around this plaza. And if there’s something we don’t have here,” he motions back to the parked skiff, “We simply borrow a skiff and find it in another plaza. It’s a triumph of design we’ve perfected over the centuries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father,” Adam says, facing forward away from the group, “There’s no need to bore them with an urban planning lesson. They’re war heroes and interstellar diplomats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow finishes tapping something out on his mini-pad, then says, “No, this is actually pretty interesting. I’ve been designing settlements back on Etheria, so I appreciate the opportunity to learn about some different urban forms!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian smiles smugly at Adam, who sighs and shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tree-shaded paths lead them eventually to the edge of the park, and to the navy blue edifice of a home, its rounded windows and door edged with golden metallic accents. Adora follows the curves of the building up to its roof and beyond. Her eyes land on stars; the edge of the giant dome is practically right behind the house, giving a view of local space with another moon, small and pinkish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door slides silently into the wall as Adrian approaches. He enters, followed by Adam, then gestures for Adora and the rest to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is our family home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The home opens with a comfortable sitting room—a low wooden table and a set of cushioned stools set around it, round white walls that open into a hallway at the back, next to the doorway that leads to what must be the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Adrian says, “Have a seat and I’ll bring you some food. We were just about to have lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not surprisingly, Adora’s stomach rumbles with hunger. She can’t quite remember when the last meal she had was, or what it was supposed to be. She finds a seat around the table, followed by her friends and Adam. The cushion is plush and forgiving, not unlike the one on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darla’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>command chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra sits down next to Adora and looks at her. A silent conversation ensues, made up of apprehensive quirks of the mouth, raised eyebrows, and anxious blinking. Adora arranges the wordless signals in her mind and gathers that her girlfriend’s suspicion of Adam has not gone away, even being presented this tableau of normalcy. Adora is too tired to tell whether she should be frustrated or persuaded by Catra’s distrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as all of Adora’s friends settle in, someone new enters the room. A slight, older woman with an olive-skinned face framed by dark, silver-streaked curls rolls in on a sleek, egg-white wheelchair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my!” she exclaims softly, her voice like the chime of a bell. “Hello there. Adrian told me you had brought guests, Adam, but I didn’t expect a party! How delightful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glides over next to where Adam is seated and smiles placidly at her guests. Looking at the two of them together, it’s not hard to tell this is Adam’s mother. The brown of her hair tints Adam’s sand-colored head, and he has her long, gently curved nose. She’s beautiful in a wispy, ethereal way, and something about her presence melts the tension in Adora’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Leora,” she says. Leora touches Adam’s shoulder delicately and smiles in a way that looks like she might cry. “Thank you all for bringing back my son. I was terrified that we had lost him …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes fix on Adora, just as Adrian’s did, but with less academic curiosity and more childlike wonder. Adora meets Leora’s gaze and finds herself deeply wanting to know more about the older woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian returns from the kitchen then, carrying a plate of breads, strange-looking vegetables, and sauces. He sets the dish down on the table and Adora immediately—politely as she can—grabs a hunk of bread and dips it in some white, creamy stuff. It tastes like herbs, soft and aromatic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Adrian sits down next to his wife, Glimmer begins her introductions again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure to meet you and your husband, ma’am,” says the queen. “I’m Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon, Grand Ambassador and Head Regent of the Royal Etherian Alliance.” She begins motioning to the others at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Bow, my Minister of Domestic Affairs and, uh … personal consort …” Bow grins confidently and gives a cordial wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Catra, my Vizier and Minister of Foreign and Interplanetary Affairs…” Catra nods politely at Leora, only briefly taking her eyes off Adam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… And Adora, my Defense Minister and Champion of Etheria.” Leora’s eyes once more land on Adora, so familiar and warm that she almost forgets that this is the first time they’ve met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Etheria isn’t a planet I’ve heard of before,” Adrian says. “Not that I get off-world much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t blame you,” says Glimmer, laughing uncomfortably. “We were isolated from the rest of the universe for a thousand years, so I guess a lot of people just forgot about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian’s interest is piqued, and he asks, “Isolated from the universe? How did that happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s … kind of a really long story. Evil holograms, portals, magic, it was a whole thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic?” chimes Leora, her hazel eyes brightening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Etheria is the last magical planet,” Adora interrupts, too weary to restrain her enthusiasm. “We led the rebellion against Horde Prime, and magic was what let us defeat him. Now we’re out exploring the galaxy to find more inhabited planets and restore their magic!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra shoots a stern, eyebrow-ruffling look at Adora, which she catches out of the corner of her eye. Adora shrugs and mouths, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a life you all lead!” Leora says, thankfully matching Adora’s energy. “Noble rebel heroes, galavanting through space on a sacred mission …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” says Glimmer, clearly eager to change the subject. “And then we got Adam’s distress signal, and we decided to rescue him and take him—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back here,” Adam interrupts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer growls. “Are you guys going to let me do my job, or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Adrian says, disregarding the small outburst, “like I said, we owe you greatly. I’m getting on a call with the other councillors in a few minutes to requisition some supplies for you. Feel free to make yourselves at home while you wait.” He pops a small orange vegetable into his mouth, then excuses himself from the table and heads back to the kitchen. In the doorway, he stops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam, come here. I need to talk to you,” Adrian says, not looking back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father,” says his son grudgingly. He stands and follows Adrian into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leora, Glimmer, and Bow relax into a comfortable silence—Catra, a decidedly uncomfortable silence—as they eat. Curiosity begins to pull Adora’s mind toward the hallway, and it’s all she can do to follow it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just gonna, uh, find the—bathroom,” Adora says quietly, excusing herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway, like everything else, is outlined in gentle curves with rounded doorways set into the walls. Adora runs her hand along the wall, feeling its simple, smooth eggshell paint. There’s a set of stairs and accompanying chairlift sloping gently upward to her left, and she follows it. The upper level has the same unassuming decor as the lower, although it’s scattered with small stacks of taped-up cardboard boxes. Adam’s family must not use this floor as much. As she walks down the hall, a door hangs open on Adora’s right. Without a thought, she enters the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s heart stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is unlit except for the faint daylight from the circular window, wreathed in gold filigree. Past the window, the pinkish moon and a distant band of stars can be seen through the dome. An asteroid streaks past. Somewhere deep in Adora’s memory, a baby cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows this room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You recognize it, don’t you, Adora?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She startles, looks around, then finds Leora in the doorway. Leora wheels in, her gaze falling softly on Adora’s face, then out the window, distantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How …” Adora whispers, “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leora sighs heavily. Her warm smile falls to something sadder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember it all too well,” the woman says. “That little face looking up at me from the crib. Those eyes, even bluer than Adrian’s. I recognized them as soon as I saw you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora stares down at the woman next to her. All her disparate feelings connect suddenly and inevitably, as if pulled together by gravity. Her heart cries out, but her mouth can only form around one word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Mom?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Plot Twist! Who Could Have Possibly Predicted This</p><p>Two notes: 1) I elected not to use the names of Adora and Adam's parents from the original universe. One reason is because I think Randor is a dumb name, and it sounds more like a surname anyway. Another reason is that I think Marlena is also kind of a dumb name. The in-universe reason is that I like to think this timeline actually takes place many many centuries after the original timeline would have happened. The "House of Randor" are King Randor and Queen Marlena's descendants who fled to Empyria when Eternia was destroyed. 2) The description of Adora's window was taken from the screenshot used <a href="https://strongcatra.tumblr.com/post/632875967970525184/ruins-of-eternia-two-years-after-the-defeat-of">here</a>, from a flashback in s1e3 "Razz." I know the planet depicted there was more likely intended to be either Eternia or Etheria, but since we never got official confirmation on that, I just used it for my own purposes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. ***update from the author***</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hi y'all,</p><p>Thank you for reading this far. This fic is a really huge undertaking for me, as it's really only the third story I've ever written and it's already at about 67k, all told. I have drafted up through chapter 15, which I'd estimate is probably 2/3 of the way through the book, so 100k is very much within reach. That said, I think I've hit a point with this story where I'm no longer excited about writing it, and am more just excited at the prospect of finishing it. It's definitely affected the quality of my work. That's part of the reason why the version of Chapter 12 I posted kind of sucked. Sticking to a 2-week schedule was good and fun and helped keep me on track, but if I keep at it like this, I'm not going to end up with the story that I wanted to tell. As well, my brain is churning out other ideas for compelling stories, including one for the 2021 She-Ra Big Bang that is turning out to be so much fun to write, and I want to pay attention to those for a while.</p><p>This is all a very long way of saying, I'm going to be taking a break from this fic for a while, maybe a few months, maybe longer. If you want to keep up with me, you can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/str0ngcatra">twitter @str0ngcatra</a> (18+ only please), and sometimes at <a href="https://strongcatra.tumblr.com/">strongcatra.tumblr.com</a>. Once again, thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, and especially commenting; it really means a lot to me.</p><p>I realize I've left you on a hell of a cliffhanger. But if you subscribe, I promise I will make it worth your while eventually.</p><p>Much love,<br/>Flora</p>
  </div></div>
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